


Phantom Pain

by Luciaskyraine



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Blood and Violence, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Dissociation, Eventual Smut, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciaskyraine/pseuds/Luciaskyraine
Summary: Phantom pain is a perception that an individual experiences relating to a limb or an organ that is not physically part of the body. Said perception could be emotional and spiritual as well...as if something was forgotten and lost, yet ever so painful all the same.--OrLucia's attempt in rewriting Crimson Flower in her own rose-colored goggles with the hint of Childhood friends AU on the side. Also very pseudo-golden route. In this house, we are swimming in $$$$.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth & Sothis
Comments: 121
Kudos: 393





	1. The Color Red

Phantom pain. A term ever so used for those who have lost a part of themselves-a limb especially. It is an insidious consequence of hardship and war. Those victims of their own battles may succumb to everlasting agony. It is something that many will sympathize; though it does not help mend the very spirit of the person whose limb was lost. It was never worth it, in fact. Honorable? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is a sacrifice for better or for worse. Some say it is **only** for those who physically lost something. Some may say phantom pain extends to the very spirit and heart of a person. It certainly depends on the perspective. 

With tragedy comes with loss; seeing limbs lost from the merciless life of battle was no exception. Byleth Eisner. Age 12. Daughter of the Blade Breaker, Jeralt Eisner. It was the unfortunate consequence of being within this field of work. Dirty work, no less. Swords and axes, bows and arrows clashing and firing at each other, filled with utmost fiery determination to survive the battle. To wake up the next day is a privilege, and a miracle itself. It is almost difficult for the young girl to watch one of her father’s men tend to his wound. Wound is an understatement when it comes to what had happened. He was missing part of his lower right leg-a result from a tragic misstep when one of the bandits that they had battled did not fully die from a swift swing of a blade. Instead, the bandit had simply took this opportunity to severe the man’s leg; an act of desperation to bring his murderer down with him. 

It was difficult for her at first to endure the sight of blood. Screams of terror, anger and pain filled the air when she was exposed to such aggression. Fortunately, after the first few incidents of her sneaking out to find out where her father went for his jobs, Byleth learned the hard way to stay put when Jeralt had told her so. _“We won’t be letting you see this, kid. Wait till you’re old enough.”_ he would always say. 

It made sense for Byleth to remain back at camp or back at town or wherever they were at the time. In fact, despite not feeling much _emotion_ , she still knew what she saw haunted her for a couple of months. However, that was when she was of an age of 9. Her father was very strict afterwards after the incident of when she slipped away from camp and went on venturing on her own. Now that she was 12, she had motioned to her father about wanting to join in on these adventures, to learn about how to fight in case she were ever alone and if he couldn’t be there for her. Jeralt knew that he had to teach his only child the ways of how the world worked. 

Being stuck in Enbarr was... _suffocating_ . It was a very large capital city within the Adrestian Empire. With the recent incident of one of the members of the mercenaries losing his limb, it had put a strain on the entire group. Everyone was grateful of his survival despite this strain. It was demoralizing in a sense--Byleth understands in a superficial way of how he may _feel._ Her heart doesn’t beat _(she doesn’t know why)_ , but she doesn’t mind. _Maybe that's why I don’t really understand,_ she would ponder to herself, believing that her non-beating heart was the reason why she was so _detached_ from this world.

She doesn’t mind staying in Enbarr for a little while--letting the injured member of the group take his time in healing and adjusting to his prosthetic that he will be given. It was only fortunate that many of her father’s missions were around the towns surrounding the capital. It kept everyone busy at the least, but also kept her “nearby” in case Jeralt needed to rush back on his horse for her. Though, she was quite obedient in that regard of staying out of trouble _(thank goodness-saves his heart from instantaneously combusting out of concern)_. 

\----------------------

“I’m going to go look around at the marketplace,” Byleth states in one morning, birds chirping on the tree they rest nearby. 

Jeralt comes to a stop from what he was doing, his fingers securing the belt he wears, prepping his bag with supplies, _“You’re free to explore kid, but don’t get too far. Be sure to carry that knife and sword of yours incase some bandits manage to sneak around in town.”_

The blue-haired mercenary nods at her father’s words, understanding _why_ he wanted her to carry her weapons around. Normally one may question why she would have two weapons, but seeing Jeralt was protective of her despite not being openly affectionate, one would come to understand that if a knife was not enough, then a sword was plenty to cripple and fend off enemies--especially thieves. “I’ll be back before the sun sets, maybe even earlier.” Byleth answers back, nodding calmly, “I don’t like sitting around as you’re out for work.” 

Getting up from rest, her legs mildly ache from the pressure applied from sitting around for too long. The young girl stretches a bit, feeling her back crack and twist as she adjusts herself to shake out the “ache” in her body. The knife and sword are acquired, delicate hands are careful to not let her flesh touch the ends of the blades. A nod of confirmation is given to her father as she steps out and proceeds to the marketplace. 

_Noisy._ Merchants chatting with civilians, some other mercenaries nearby purchasing weapons or even forging their weapons with the blacksmith. Blue eyes peered around, her ears alert to absorb every sound of idle chatter and business proposals in her environment. Most people were adults--way older than her and certainly with that knowledge she’s aware of strangers approaching her, smiling and greeting her as if she was a lost child. Byleth would often shake her head and continue forward without much else. The blue-haired girl certainly wasn’t lost by any chance; she came here willingly out of curiosity and boredom. Sitting around waiting for her father to come back “home” was always dreary, and even with the abundance of training on trees and even sparring with the injury member of the group, it wasn’t enough to pass time entirely. 

A change of pace was good. Byleth wanted to _learn_ what was out here in the capital city, because knowing her future was with her father, she needed to know how the world worked for her to survive. Knowing what the people wanted was also necessary. After all, communication was part of being a mercenary. Knowing one big place and expanding to other towns and major places would help her learn and adjust. After all, she had been coddled for a little while. It was time for her to have the courage to step out of the darkness and face the world with her own two feet. 

A sudden distressed cry catches her attention, and Byleth immediately cranes her head to peer at the direction of the source of the sound. Sky-hued eyes focus on the sight of a brown-haired girl _(around her age)_ with another boy in front of her, clearly injured. His black hair obscured his face, but Byleth can _sense_ distress from both of them. Her hand instinctively grasps on the hilt of the sword, hearing that sharp, smooth sound once it is pulled out from her belt. Its metal shines against the daylight and she immediately rushes over to grasp the sword in front of her, pointing at the aggressor, her back facing the two she was defending. “What are you--” she hears the brown-haired girl speak, albeit her voice mildly trembling from fear. 

“Leave them alone,” Byleth states, grip tightening on the hilt of her weapon. 

It’s difficult when this is the first bandit that she will have to face in battle, noting that he too had a weapon in his own hand. It clearly is a dagger, dripping from the blood that it hungrily cut at from the black-haired boy, but she can sense that with how crippled the boy is. The brown-haired girl is beside him, pressing her hand against his injury, in her own attempt to clot the injury to save him from bleeding out. Byleth notes that in her mind as she launches herself at the bandit. The bandit deflects her attack with his dagger, throwing the sword off of the target, but Byleth had learned from sparring with her father that daggers were very quick, and unlike swords, people are capable of close combat. The blue-haired girl immediately jumps back before he could have the chance to grab her, and she notes him coming at her again. Byleth grits her teeth and deflects the dagger, ensuring there is enough distance between her and the enemy, but ensuring that she wasn’t invading the space of the two she was protecting. 

Ominous magic appears and Byleth steps back and allows it to hit the bandit, immediately staggering and breaking the dance of clashing blades. “Hubert! Don’t strain yourself--” Byleth hears the girl answer, and hears the boy cough from straining his abilities. 

“It’s okay, Lady Edelgard,” he answers, pain evident in his voice, “anything to protect you I will do.” 

Throat aching, Byleth lets out a loud shout as she charges forward, taking advantage of Hubert’s spell of distraction. Blood immediately splatters onto her clothes, staining them crimson. Her nostrils filled with the scent of blood, the silver coat of her sword begins to be painted in red, her biceps flexing and straining in forcing as much strength into her thrust as possible. It’s intoxicating--like a wolf preying on a rabbit and sinking its fangs into its neck, Byleth feels like she is the predator now, sinking her teeth into the enemy’s body. 

Adrenaline pools in her body, her mind buzzes from the stress that she experiences, and she finds that she is pinning the sword into the man’s pectoral. His screams reverberate into her eardrums, and it is such a _sickening_ sound that causes her body to tremble. Pulling the stained blade from the pierced flesh, Byleth steps back, voice somber and assertive, “I will say this again. Leave them alone.” she stares with a sharp, focused gaze, finding the man scrambling up, using his other hand to pick up the dagger; she sees him cowering like a dog with its tail tucked under its legs and scampers off. 

“Are you okay?” Byleth turns towards Hubert and Edelgard, taking a few steps forward. 

“I-I am, yes. Hubert isn’t as okay though…” Edelgard answers, allowing herself a few deep breaths to calm the nerves gnawing against her entire body, “thank you for coming to our aide.” 

_Formal._ For someone around her age, Edelgard appeared to be formal, intelligent and well-dressed. _Perhaps a noble?_ Byleth remembers hearing about the abundance of nobles in Enbarr, how the empire values the nobility. She wasn’t all into politics--Jeralt never really spoke about them other than the simplicity of titles and how they may behave or appear as. Nothing else to it. She doesn’t mind though. Blue eyes meet with lilac-hued optics and Byleth notices the intense stare at the bloodied sword. Quick to act, the blue-haired mercenary immediately puts the sword into her sword belt. _I’ll clean it later…_

She’s unsure if the blood dripping from the edge of her blade was causing Edelgard to become more unnerved by the minute, but Byleth thinks to herself that it’s likely causing tension. Putting it away and cleaning it later seems to be the best option so far. The mercenary catches herself staring at the brunette, and certainly it was inappropriate. If it weren’t for the mere fact that her friend was injured, she suspects she would have had a spell pelted right at her for being indecent with her gaze. Byleth turns her head to face Hubert and she sees the messy mess of dried blood against his dark-colored clothes, with the messy stained glove that belongs to Edelgard. Byleth almost feels silly for _not_ packing some bandages in case she were to get injured. It’s a new lesson for her at the very least--- _packing some bandages_ when exploring out by herself. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when the sound of shuffling is heard, and she sees Hubert shakily stand up from his fallen position, hand pressing against his now-clotted wound. “I need to head back,” he quietly mumbles, taking a few deep breaths (they look painful) to ease himself into his sudden change of position. 

“I’ll go with you.” Byleth answers in return; there’s nothing else she had to do at this time, and certainly leaving two children around her age--especially one being injured was _ill-mannered._

She notices Hubert and Edelgard giving a look at each other. Engrossed to the point as if they were _speaking_ to each other in terms with their mind. It’s _unnerving._ Serpentine-like eyes pierce at her expression, Byleth remains silent as she allows the green eyes peering at her to analyze her, studying her as if she had a hidden motive for offering. It’s _eerie_ she thinks, having someone around her age so utterly _intense_ in terms of demeanor. If it weren’t for her blank-faced, detached mind and heart, she would have flinched immediately upon that gaze. “It would benefit,” she hears Hubert answer cooly, weary and cautious due to his unexpected vulnerability from before, “do not do anything to harm Lady Edelgard, if you value your life that is.” 

“Hubert--”

“It’s okay.” Byleth replies, interjecting Edelgard’s response, “he’s...your bodyguard, isn’t he? He has the right to say that.”

Edelgard doesn’t answer back to her remarks. Of course Hubert was a bodyguard to her, but Byleth can tell that the imperial princess had valued her retainer more than just a bodyguard. She is rather _jealous_ of that to some extent; the ache and pressure in her own gut determines that she feels _something_ regarding to what she had analyzed. It’s not like Byleth wants a bodyguard, heavens no. She simply was curious about what it was _like_ to have a friend. Alas, it was inevitable. Life as a mercenary was about detachment and temporary relations. Nothing long-term. Everything was meant to end eventually. 

Sky-hued lens continue to watch Hubert as he shakily steps forward. “Here,” Byleth speaks again, quietly, calmly, “I’ll help you with your injured side.” 

The mercenary allows her arm to wrap around the male, giving him the luxury of placing his arm around her shoulder. She’s meant to do this as support, but if there were any further surprise attacks, then it would delay her reflexes and movement. Byleth hopes that there aren’t any other mischievous bandits lurking in the shadows. One shuffle in the middle of a public area was already burdensome. 

It didn’t seem like that far of a walk, but it was sluggish and burdensome with extra weight upon her body. Though, the tension was thick in the air when it came to Hubert and Edelgard. Perhaps she could do something about it? “What were you two doing out in the marketplace?” she asks, cautious and alert for any signs of danger. 

“I wanted some fresh air. It’s tiresome being cooped up indoors all day, or seeing the same things over and over again,” she’d hear Edelgard say, also hearing her exhale a breath with her mouth, “I didn’t think there were bandits around...I didn’t think I would be in danger.” 

“Bandits...will do anything for money.” Byleth answers in return, “they could try to kidnap children belonging to nobles for a ransom, or steal any prized possessions...sometimes they’re hired cheaply to assassinate someone.” 

The hitch in Edelgard’s breath notifies the older girl that her statement hit a nerve--it’s quite unnerving she admits to herself, and certainly a cold truth of the world they all live in. Better to inform her of the cruelty of humanity now rather than later. “I’m sorry if that...made you uncomfortable.” 

“No,” Edelgard answers, but turns her head to meet Byleth’s eyes, “but it’s...a reality of what it’s like to step outside...and maybe it was just bad luck that it had happened.” 

There’s something within those lilac-hued irises that catch the child mercenary’s focus. The look in them are warm despite cooly colored. A flutter claws its way into her stomach, and there’s a small ache in her chest as a result. _What...is this feeling?_ Byleth asks herself, continue to look into the lilac irises as she helps Hubert walk back to the destination. It’s such a warm, light feeling. For someone older than Edelgard, she certainly is naive in terms of recognizing human emotion. 

Byleth doesn’t know what to say. Would it comfort or torture Edelgard if she had said something? She makes a small noise from the back of her throat, and nods. She doesn’t want to sound rude or insensitive to someone who was potentially at the risk of being kidnapped for ransom, and for having her friend be injured. Edelgard would end up smiling weakly, the corner of her lips tipping upwards ever so slightly. Byleth keeps that in her mind. It seems she’s okay with her reaction. 

“So...are you a mercenary?” Edelgard inquires at her, head tilting ever so slightly to the side. _Innocent._ It’s that sort of pure innocence that is drawn to someone as void and detached as Byleth. 

“I am.” Byleth answers, quick and confident, but nothing else to it. “I...don’t really go out with the group on main missions--” Jeralt wouldn’t let her till she honed her sword skills and was older, “--but I am a mercenary, regardless.” 

“I see,” Edelgard’s smile widens further ever so slightly, her eyes relaxing a bit as well, “that would explain your way with the sword and how you were able to fend off the bandit until Hubert surprised us all.” 

Byleth feels a sense of bubbliness inside her gut, and Hubert’s snort accompanied with a weak cough afterwards only heightened that feeling. “I did it out of instinct, “ she swallows, feeling her mouth and throat dry from all the stress earlier, “I couldn’t just sit around and see you two be injured further.” 

“And I’m glad you did just that.” Edelgard responds, “I would be in bad hands right now if you didn’t step up.” 

A male voice comes rushing at them, frantic in posture, complexion pale and filled with worry, “Edelgard?! Hubert?! What in the world happened?!”

It was Edelgard who looks up at the taller and older man, lips moving to answer to his outburst, “We had a shuffle at the marketplace, Victor, but this mercenary helped us.” 

Byleth feels a tense stare at her with similar lilac eyes, and she notices his hair is similar in color to Edelgard’s, except it was more dark, like an earthy hue. “It...was no trouble at all,” she answers calmly, allowing Hubert to be transferred to Victor’s arms, taking him to safety. 

The blue-haired mercenary was unaware that they had met at the destination. The drawn out questions and answers certainly took more time than she had expected, combined with the bustling noise of civilians and the scenes of nature and buildings around them. Though, Byleth looks at Edelgard, noticing how her chest heaves in relief knowing that they made it back safely. When lilacs meet with sky-hued irises once again, Byleth holds her breath in. There’s a certain look to royalty; just _knowing_ that they had something to say was unnerving. 

“Thank you once again for coming to my aide...and Hubert’s as well.” 

A release of pent up air from her lungs. “It’s...no trouble at all. Really.” A pause, then another statement, “who is he?”

“One of my older brothers, Victor.” 

_Older brother._ That certainly made sense with how he was beside himself in sheer worry about his younger sister’s state and with how Hubert was. Byleth feels that if she were in a similar position, that she too would feel upset. “I should...get going.” she breathes out, it suddenly feels _suffocating_ here being at the front gates of the imperial castle. She’s unaccustomed to such vital and intimidating presence when she’s a mere mercenary who traveled a lot across Fodlan. 

“Wait.” 

Byleth freezes when she’s about to turn around, and she waits. 

“What’s your name?” 

Lilacs meet sky irises, and Byleth feels like her breath is caught in her throat all of a sudden. It’s just her name, _what’s the big deal?_ But something, just _something_ in those lilac-hued irises catch her attention like a fish on a hook, like the talons of a hawk on its prey. She’s mystified in this moment, and the feeling of having something so _casual_ , yet so formal in her life just this once feels like a moment that she can truly appreciate. 

It’s not like she would ever see her again after today. 

_But those eyes…_

Byleth wants to see her again. To learn the wonders of _friendship_ with people her age. To _learn_ what it was like to live outside of the bubble of being a mercenary. There was a feeling of _hope_ dwelling inside of her, that maybe, just maybe...she’ll see her again. 

“Byleth…” she answers finally, after an uncomfortable silence between them both, “my name is Byleth.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: -Wheezes- Thank you for the support so far! I can't believe y'all like my brain barf of ideas! Childhood friends AU has been bugging my mind for weeks, but I'm glad I can put it out in writing. 
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/luciaskyraine // my twitter for that retweet propaganda
> 
> https://discord.gg/ppvwean
> 
> I made a server with a few friends and we want to open our doors to any readers of Phantom Pain and any other of my works! We're hoping to build a friendly, long-term community built from friendship and of course, we can all simply live with the pain from my awful, sadistic ass!


	2. Scent of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes. The red carnations you see mean love and affection...white lilies mean virtue, purity...sometimes new beginnings and hope. Flowers are often given to a person as a gift which often relays a certain message across.”

“Byleth…” Edelgard mouths the syllables, feeling the letters and pronunciation escape the tip of her tongue, “I like it. It’s cool. I’m Edelgard von Hresvelg, but you already know that from Hubert’s outburst earlier.” 

“Yeah…” Byleth responds softly, unsure what else to say. Though, she really knew the brunette’s first name, not her full name. Now it’s even more  _ awkward _ for her to bear the fact she’s truly in front of royalty. But the blue-eyed mercenary seems to note that Edelgard prefers casual answers. 

Semi-soaked hands  _ (which are covered in mostly dry blood) _ shove themselves into the pockets of her coat. “I’m sorry for not addressing you properly--”

“It’s okay.” Edelgard answers quickly; an attempt to decrease formalities, “I enjoy being on...a casual basis with people I meet. I’m fine with all the big adult stuff when they call me “Your Highness” and all that, but to the people outside, I’m okay if they simply call me Lady Edelgard or even Edelgard.” 

“I see.” Byleth pauses, “Edelgard…”  _ It’s a nice name. _ It feels like a crime to not call her as the insisted title that all commoners and nobles should know, but there was given consent for her to not say that. “It’s nice meeting you, Edelgard. If we do meet again, I do hope it’s more favorable.” 

\----------

_ “Hey kid, what did you see at the marketplace?”  _ Jeralt asks as he puts away his belt and bag; it seems like he is done work for the day. 

Byleth finds herself laying down on her bed, hands folded neatly together and placed onto her abdomen. She’s at peace. “Not much,” she admits, “but I got into a fight with a bandit that snuck in town.” 

_“Oh?”_ Jeralt quirked an eyebrow at his young daughter, and he grabs a seat to drag it towards the bed, placing himself in. _This was going to be a long conversation._ _“How did you manage to get into one?”_

There was a bit of reluctance in Byleth’s mind, feeling that if she told her father that he would ban her from going out alone ever again. It seemed heroic to her to have jumped in front of others to protect them from harm, but it was utterly foolish to risk her life in doing so--more so to strangers who she didn’t even know about. Still, Jeralt would have pried it out of her eventually  _ (parents were so notorious for that).  _ “I jumped in front of a bandit and fought him off.” she states quietly, then turning her head to meet Jeralt’s gaze, attempting to read his expression, “he was attacking the imperial princess and her friend.” 

It’s exceptionally frightening when the look in Jeralt’s eyes are focused, pupils pinpointing right at her, his expression is  _ unreadable. _ Though, she feels he isn’t upset at her, but more so intrigued and cautious of what she had done. She remembers the blood that was recently washed off of her weapon, hands, and clothes, but yet with her father’s eyes on her, it feels like she’s still stained in blood. 

_ “Did you kill him?”  _ was the answer that comes out of Jeralt’s mouth, tongue sharp and precise. 

“I didn’t.” Byleth responds, feeling the air constrict around her. “I had no intention of murdering him.” 

_ “I see.”  _

An uncomfortable pause consumes the environment. Byleth doesn’t like this feeling, but often it’s due to Jeralt being consumed by his own thoughts; thoughts that were vital in life lessons and in stories that would be passed down to her. She can tell by the way his brows would burrow, the scrunch of his face and the somber look in his eyes that held years of wisdom. She appreciates her father’s preachings no doubt about it. It didn’t make this sort of environment any less uncomfortable. She’s still trying to get accustomed to when he appears like that--the last time she got that look was when she ran off when she was younger. 

_ “I only ask because if you did, then I would need to tell you about the stress that comes from your first kill.”  _

_ First kill. _ Incredibly ominous in meaning. Still, it was something she had to know sooner or later. The sooner the better. Byleth knows she’ll have to  _ kill _ someone eventually, whether she was reluctant or not. Killing was part of the job as a mercenary---it made her more of an assassin if anything, but it wasn’t as specific. The blue-haired girl forces herself up from her bed, sitting up, legs dangling from the edge as she faces her father. Her hair gently cascades down her neck and slightly down her back  _ (her hair is of medium length) _ . Jeralt can see her maneuver herself to the edge of the bed and he notes the way her fingers dug into the side of the mattress not only to steady herself, but to embrace herself for the ongoing conversation. 

“You might as well tell me,” Byleth sighs quietly to herself, “I won’t always be clean from murder forever.” 

_ “And that you’re right.” _ Jeralt replies, leaning back into the chair,  _ “It’s not always easy. I certainly still remember the first kill I’ve ever done.”  _

“You do?” 

_ “Absolutely.”  _

Jeralt doesn’t talk about himself quite often. Members of the group don’t know much about Jeralt besides the fact he’s known as the Blade Breaker, and that he had a child. They knew that angering the man would result in swift punishment. At worse? Exile. He was righteous as well as strict and task-orientated. Jeralt seemed to decline work that was deemed  _ immoral _ in her perceptions and often picked up work that dealt with saving villages and towns from being raided and destroyed by bandits. The occasional odd job was here and there, but it either required an exceptionally large sum of gold to persuade the man to accept or it was within his perceived morality. No one really knew his whereabouts or his origins. Byleth herself didn’t know her father as much as she would like to, but she  _ trusted _ in him enough that he’d tell her in due time. Especially about her  _ mother. _

There were times where Jeralt had avoided answering the abundance of questions that Byleth had stated to her father. At first it bothered her, but eventually she had to accept that she had to “wait” till the time was right to hear some answers. It was mildly infuriating, but she understood to some extent. Everyone in this group including her respected Jeralt’s decisions, and often they were patient with him as well  _ (except for the times where things got out of hand, but that’s a different story).  _

“What was it like?” she inquires, blue eyes onto her father’s expression, waiting in anticipation. 

_ “It was difficult having someone you knew for a short time lose their life from your own hands. It’s hard to deal with knowing that they may have had children at home waiting for them, have family somewhere, or simply trying to make a living to survive.”  _ Jeralt finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat, and he continues to ponder, digging into his distant memory,  _ “It took some time for me to tell myself that I did what I had to do. Someday you’ll end up the same as well. Maybe you’ll feel guilty, angry...lost even. I want you to know that your first kill will hurt you the most in subtle ways. Each person has their own way of feeling when it comes to their first kill. Know that your way when the time comes is just as significant.”  _

Heavy words bear a burden upon her being; Byleth takes a small deep breath with her nose and exhales it out shortly after. She’s only twelve, yet it feels like she’s being told a lesson that any young adult would appreciate. “I see,” she swallows the dryness in her mouth away, “thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

\------------

Work never ceases, and it continues to pile on in. Byleth notices her father leaving quite often, but he often left her notes such as where he was going and why. It soothed her young spirit at the very least from knowing where Jeralt was. Though, she notices the one time she gets up from bed with a note on the table. 

_ Hey kid, I got up and left for another one of my jobs. But I got a job for you. Take the scroll and give it to the merchant at the marketplace. He’s a sore thumb in the crowd, you won’t miss him. Thanks.  _

_ \- Jeralt  _

Sky-hued irises threaten to remain hidden under her eyelids. Byleth uses her hand to smudge the drowsiness away from her consciousness, stifling a small yawn as a result. The mercenary could see that it was early in the morning, but not too early where the night still reigns dominant. She allows herself the luxury of rest for a moment, letting the sleep ease away from her body bit by bit. It wasn’t an emergency she suspects--if it were, Jeralt would have delivered the message himself. She never really had much work aside from being the “messenger girl” that some of the merchants and employers would note of when it came to Jeralt’s services, but she didn’t mind. Eventually she too will shine out in the battlefield. Maybe she’ll get a title, or a fancy name like her father’s own title. She wonders what it could be. 

_ Still a bit too early to think of things like that. I should get going.  _

Byleth shakes her head a little to snap out of her thoughts. Dressing herself up, she attaches the sword belt on, placing the knife and the sword into their proper spots  _ (she hopes she doesn’t have to hurt someone again) _ , and she allows her fingers to run through her own hair to rip out the tangles and knots in her darkened teal-colored hair. Small tinges of pain reverberate across her scalp, but Byleth ignores the sensation as she straightens out her hair. She continues to prepare any necessary preparations before she heads out, scroll in her left hand. 

The marketplace was just as rowdy and full of life like it was yesterday. A good sign for business prospects, and definitely a good sign of a community. However, some of the vendors were different, or at least the selections were different. Byleth pondered if the merchants switched their supplies around to keep business booming but to promote new delicacies and tools. She notices that certain food vendors had something different, anything jewelry related was switched around as well. It’s fascinating--at least to her how people are keen on promoting and selling goods that certainly pandered to unique individuals. 

A certain individual catches her eye, and she notes with how... _ colorful _ he is.  _ Jeralt wasn’t wrong… _ she thought to herself, sighing quietly as she approaches the man with the message necessary for him. “Excuse me,” she speaks up once she catches his vision, “I have a message from Jeralt.” 

“Ah, so he did answer my request! Lovely.” He chuckles to himself while taking the scroll, immediately unraveling the rolled up paper to then scan the message with his pupils. 

Byleth notes his satisfied nod and grunt, and she watches him put away the parchment into his pocket before looking at her again. “Since you were so kind to deliver this message for me, how about I give you some sweet bread?” 

Her head tilts every so slightly as the merchant’s back is turned on her temporarily, noticing his hands with baked goods in each palm. “One for you and one for Jeralt, unless you want to eat them both, then I won’t stop you.” He chuckles again, “just make sure you don’t tell him I gave you too many sweets.” 

Giving her gratitude, the mercenary takes the baked goods into her hand before turning away and walking. Her teeth sunk into the soft flesh of the breading, and her taste buds taste the slight sugary flavoring that was added to bread. Her sky-hued irises blink a couple of times, allowing her mind to register the flavor. She hadn’t had too many sweets in her first years of life; Jeralt often fed her what was necessary and certainly they were never sweets. Sometimes fruits, but nothing artificial. Sweet bread was certainly satisfying to Byleth. It made her salivate a little bit more, satiating her appetite a bit more. 

Her feet continue moving forward while she chews and swallows the reward she received for a simple deed, but she notices lush green grass and proceeds forward. She wasn’t accustomed to populated areas---she’s much more use to the wilderness and the abundance of greens and earthy textures that surrounded her environment. The smell of grass is familiar to her and this causes Byleth to take a deep inhale and exhale from her nose as a result. 

Her first sweet bread had been devoured, the mild sugary flavor was  _ addicting.  _ Her tongue glosses over her lips, savoring the last bit of sweetness.  _ I don’t want to finish this too soon… _ Byleth decides to hold onto it; maybe even inquiring Jeralt if he wanted the second baked treat. 

A flash of light brown passes Byleth’s eyes. The mercenary blinks a couple of times.  _ Edelgard?  _ She immediately travels further into the park and scans the area. She finds Edelgard with Hubert  _ (as usual) _ , talking to each other. It was too quiet to hear what they were talking about, but certainly eavesdropping was disrespectful and potentially dangerous. However, Byleth feels her feet stuck into the ground, like quicksand had pulled her in.  _ Go talk to her.  _ Her mind seems to say.  _ You wanted to talk to her and see her again, right?  _

_ Why do I feel this way?  _

It’s difficult for some  _ odd _ reason that she doesn’t have the courage to walk up to someone. Maybe it was just how different it was from talking to adults. She was technically done her job and had nothing else to do for the rest of the day while Jeralt is off slaying bandits or whatever threat was going around. Byleth suspects that it’s due to how unaccustomed she is in greeting others around her age. They were definitely a little less formal, but more impulsive and unpredictable than adults. 

Swallowing, Byleth takes a few deep breaths before walking towards the duo, eyes focused on them both. “Hello,” she answers quietly, unsure if she should say both Edelgard and Hubert’s names. 

“Hello.” Hubert answers cooly, turning his attention onto her. “Byleth.” Edelgard answers, focusing on the mercenary as well, “hello to you too. What are you doing here?” 

“Well…” she starts off in a reply, “I was delivering a message to a merchant--my father told me it was my job for the day...and I got a reward for it and went for a walk...I saw you two and decided to say hello.” It was a mouthful, but it was honest at the very least--a bit awkward  _ (she had to work on her social skills) _ . 

“I can see that,” Edelgard eyes at the sweet bread in Byleth’s hand, the faintest of smiles appearing on her countenance, “I’m glad you came by and said hello. It’s nice to have more company...company that I enjoy at least.” 

_ Edelgard enjoys my company?  _ A bubbly feeling rises inside of her gut. It’s pleasant--as always, but certainly distracting. “Do...you want the sweet bread? I ate one already. I was saving it for later, but...if you want it I can give it to you.” 

“I couldn’t. It’s yours after all,” how modest of the imperial princess. 

Byleth looks at the baked treat in her hand and she ponders before shoving her hand out to the younger brunette. “I want you to have it.” she answers calmly, an affirmative nod is given as well, “It’s...it’s what a friend would do.” 

“A friend?” Edelgard begins to giggle at the comment, “Byleth, you do have your way with words.” 

_ Was that a smile?  _ Byleth slightly widens her eyes as she finds the brunette smiling at her in response, and she puts the treat into Edelgard’s hand. She notes how pristine the princess looked, her hand was soft, and the brushing of their fingers made the teal-haired mercenary feel a sensation of  _ joy _ . It felt  _ good _ to make someone happy. She wants to get to know her more and make her smile more. Who knew that the joy of others was pleasant?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have one for Hubert as well…” 

“It’s fine,” Hubert interjects, voice and expression neutral, but a hint of satisfaction shone in his eyes due to Edelgard’s joy, “I don’t like sweets.” 

“Did you come here to see the flowers, Byleth?” Edelgard speaks again once she finishes the sweet bread, “the park here has really pretty flowers.” 

“Flowers?” Byleth responds, blinking. 

She’s seen plenty of flowers on the side of dirt roads due to her growing up travelling. She’s seen the differences in trees, the way the leaves would break off of branches from trees, or how they would change colors depending on the season. Different sizes of leaves were also in abundance, and she vaguely remembers collecting a leaf pile when she was younger as a way to entertain herself but also learn about the world around her. 

“Please tell me you know what flowers are…” Edelgard frowns slightly, a bit concerned that her new friend was...a bit dense and naive. 

“I do,” Byleth answers immediately after, before using one hand to maneuver and scratch the back of her neck, “I was thinking to myself just now...sorry. I’ve seen different plants and flowers since I travel a lot...but I didn’t know there were flowers in this park.” 

Before anything else is said, Byleth feels a warm hand grasp around her wrist, pulling her forward. Holding her breath, the mercenary allows the imperial princess to drag her around, through the grass, stepping onto and over rocks, hearing the  _ crunch _ and small noises that the environment around them both make. Once the tugging stopped, Byleth finds herself with her eyes widening slightly at the change of environment, her vision focused on what was in front of her.  _ Flowers.  _ Abundance of flowers scattered around the land, sprouting from the dirt with colorful green grass. 

_ Beautiful.  _ Is all Byleth can think of when she walks around, looking at the different specimen of plants here. Purple, blue, gold, orange, white, red...so many colors all in the same place, it was a different view compared to the typical green and woody, earthy colors she’s grown accustomed to. A set of dark red flowers next to white flowers catches her eye, and she stands in front of them. 

“Those...are red carnations,” Byleth hears Edelgard speak from beside her, “did you know flowers all have a language to them?”

“Language?”

“Yes. The red carnations you see mean love and affection...white lilies mean virtue, purity...sometimes new beginnings and hope. Flowers are often given to a person as a gift which often relays a certain message across.” 

_ Interesting.  _ Fingers gently pluck a carnation from its spot. Byleth carefully and gently puts the flower’s stem between light brown locks of hair and behind where her ear is. “They’re pretty...carnations are pretty and they suit you. I find both the flower and you to be beautiful.” 

Edelgard makes a small whine noise from the back of her throat, cheeks immediately coloring red. Even the tips of her ears are reddened from the comment. “I-” she flusters around with her words, tongue-tied all of a sudden, “Byleth...you certainly are bold with words.” 

Byleth tilts her head slightly to the side. “Did you not like it?” 

“No, no...I appreciate it! Flattered even, but...save those words for someone special.” 

“You are someone special…” Byleth finds herself unable to understand what was  _ wrong _ with what was said, “you’re my...friend. A friend is special.” 

“A friend  _ is _ special,” Edelgard agrees, regaining her complexion, “and...I see you as a friend too, even if we only met each other a couple of times...it’s nice to have a new friend, who isn’t my servant like Hubert.” 

Byleth looks back, finding Hubert standing guard, his back faced to them both. It was as if he was giving them time for themselves. She doesn’t mind, but it feels  _ off.  _ A friend isn’t a servant. She knows this. Yet...it feels  _ sad _ in a sense, having someone devoted and utterly carefree of their own will and being to  _ sacrifice _ for someone else. However, it wasn’t the mercenary’s place to comment about it or even give her thoughts on the subject. It seemed rude. 

“Byleth, did you know the imperial palace has a garden? It’s bigger and really beautiful.” 

“I’d...like to see it.” 

\----------

Colors splatter on the canvas of reality. Roses, violets, lilies, carnations, and several other flowers could be seen at the garden belonging to the royal family of Adrestia. Byleth feels  _ shocked _ yet her expression is flat. It feels so  _ wrong _ being unable to smile, cry, frown or even properly  _ emote _ like a human being. Yet deep down inside, she feels the joy, the surprise, and the childish wonder that was repressed into her body for  _ years. _ It was a gift all on its own thanks to Edelgard’s kindness. 

“You...want to plant some flower seeds with me?” Edelgard inquires, holding a small bag of seeds resting within her palm. 

_ This would create a cherished memory with a friend.  _ Byleth nods. “I’ll help with digging.” 

Hands begin to dig into the soft soil, the earthy smell familiar to her nose. The mercenary digs a small pit, sky-blue eyes watching Edelgard put a couple of seeds in each pit she had created. Hands press down and slide, covering the indentations so that no harm would be given to the seed. 

“Hubert, can you help with the watering?” Byleth hears Edelgard speak to Hubert, and she hears his footsteps as he steps forward, tilting a watering can onto the location of the newly planted seed. 

The scent of flowers lingers longer than expected, but Byleth doesn’t mind. It smells sweet, and the teal-haired mercenary feels  _ human _ just a little bit more by the blossoming bond she has with Edelgard. 

The scent of flowers remains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Frantic loud wheezing-   
> Had difficulties writing this chapter but I cannot handle myself with how tooth-rotting this chapter was in terms of fluff and how innocent it is.
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/luciaskyraine // Twitter is here if you want to see my edeleth propaganda in retweets.


	3. Close Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I want to make a promise to you."

“Are you going out again tomorrow?” Byleth asks after her fingers are covered in dirt, “I want to spend as much time with you before I have to go away for a long, long time.”

“Hm…” Edelgard answers in response, pondering as well. “You are a mercenary after all...it makes sense that you won’t be here in Enbarr forever. But the park sounds like a good idea to me. It’s not too far from home, and it’s an easy location to go to.”

A curt nod was given in a way to affirm the decision. While she knows that Edelgard wouldn’t always have time to go out and spend time with her, there was no harm in asking after all. Byleth wonders what the imperial princess does on her spare time aside from going out and exploring with Hubert. Maybe this would be a good way to pass time tomorrow, getting to learn more about her.

“You’re my first friend Edelgard,” Byleth speaks again, breaking the silence in the air; she’s a tad worried about sounding... _clingy_ at worst. “I’m sorry if I sound a bit clingy or...absurd.”

Wow. It certainly got overwhelming all of a sudden. Lilac eyes pierce at the mercenary, but instead of admonish or disappointing words, laughter is portrayed. Byleth begins to feel confused. _What’s so funny?_

“Don’t worry so much about it Byleth. Sure you’re a bit strange, but I find that interesting about you. You’re my first friend as well, second if you count Hubert.” Edelgard finds Byleth strange, but also very intriguing all the same. Her laughter could be perceived as ill-mannered, but in truth, the imperial princess found the other girl quite _adorable_ in how awkward she was despite being older. It certainly gave her a new perspective to people’s flexible nature.

_Strange._ Byleth agrees that she’s a bit strange, but she still believes that it’s due to that unbeating heart of hers. She makes sure she doesn’t anyone else know. Jeralt had emphasized the importance of not spreading that fact about her. The confusion melts away once she realizes that she did sound a tad odd in how she portrays herself, but she doesn’t feel any offense or hurt _(for some reason)._ Edelgard’s words were a form of affirmation that her behavior was at least acceptable for someone socially naive such as her.

Thoughts interrupt when Edelgard speaks again. “I’m going to get cleaned up and put everything away. Want to help while you’re here? I don’t want to put everything into Hubert’s hands.”

“Yeah, I can help.” Byleth forces herself onto her own two feet and she begins to assist the imperial princess and her retainer with putting away supplies and cleaning off the dirt on their hands.

\-----

_“You’re up and early, kid. What’s the occasion?”_ Jeralt quirks his brow as he finds his daughter scrambling up from bed and preparing for her day.

“I made a new friend, and I’m meeting her today.” the teal-haired girl responds, packing everything necessary. “I didn’t know her for too long...but she’s still my first friend.”

_“Ah.”_ Jeralt mutters out, pausing for a bit. _You’re growing up fast. “Byleth, try not to get too attached, alright? I’m not telling you to not make friends by any means, but I don’t want you to be hurting since we’re mercenaries. We aren’t going to stay here forever.”_

Chills electrify downwards against her spine. Byleth feels cold all of a sudden. From such simple, meaningful words, they affected her negatively. _Do…I feel sad? No...it’s something more._ She doesn’t know exactly what she feels, but she makes an inference that she has some sort of sorrow attached to the complexity of human emotion. The mere thought of never seeing Edelgard _haunts_ her as it is _heartbreaking_. Losing a first friend like that wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it was inevitable.

Aches continue to gnaw at her beatless heart, Byleth swallows quietly, breathing in and out slowly to allow herself to remain steady. _He’s right...I might never see her again._ She realizes that her inner feelings sparked up a lot more now due to her friendship with the young imperial princess. It was nice to feel something a lot more than numbness and emptiness. It was as if her world became a lot more colorful. Of course she appreciates Hubert as well. His broody-like nature was peculiar, but it added an interesting mix towards her life. It’s something new--something she can’t just give up so easily now she’s had her first taste of reality and friendship.

Still, there is something so inherently _selfish_ of her that wants to allow herself to indulge in this newfound freedom and feeling. As much as she cared, loved and appreciated her father’s support and wisdom, it feels like a huge burden upon her shoulders all of a sudden.

There wasn’t much of a choice Byleth had when it comes to these decisions. Even then, she wasn’t even sure what she truly desired in life, or what she really wanted to do aside from follow the one person who had been there since she was born. The feelings of friendship did seem temporary--like what Jeralt had implied. Being on the move all the time really didn’t allow the luxury of friendship to develop further than something short-term. Anything long-term would require her to stay for a much longer duration, even years to reach that tier.

It wasn’t a crime to indulge just a little bit.

“Yeah.” Byleth responds to Jeralt after she processes everything, “I understand where you’re coming from.”

_“Oh, before I forget, I got something for you.”_

Sounds of rustling and ruffling around can be heard. Byleth turns to face Jeralt, head tilting ever so slightly to portray her curiosity in what her father had for her. Often it was either weapons, new books or even clothes for her to have. The occasional sweets from foreign places was given as well. Jeralt hands over a neatly folded bundle into her hands, and Byleth can see that it was certainly clothing that he acquired for her. It feels...a lot _heavier_ , most likely a coat to keep her warm when it rained, snowed or even when the weather was overall chilly.

It certainly was a large coat comprised of heavy fabric and dull shades of grays with black shoulders. I was interesting and she notes the embroidered pattern on the upper top back of the coat. It’s nice, she contemplates to herself, feeling positive, bubbly sensations in her body as a result. Byleth feels _happy_ , despite wearing a stoic-toned expression on her demeanor.

“Thank you,” Byleth answers with as much gratitude she could portray, immediately putting the coat on to try it, “I love it.”

_“Sadly they didn’t have coats that were smaller in size, but you’re also still growing so it’ll be good to keep that in good condition for you to use when you’re older.”_ Jeralt hums to himself, knowing it was too big for his daughter to wear at the moment.

“No, it’s okay,” she replies, buttoning it up and allowing the sleeves to fall back and pool against her shoulders, “It’s nice and I love it even if it’s too big for now...I’ll still use it when I’m older.”

_“Glad you like it, kid. Of course I won’t keep you now. You have a friend to meet right?”_

Perking up, Byleth nods, immediately double checking all of her supplies and leaving the room, coat dragging on the floor, sleeves slouching off of her hands.

\-----

“That’s certainly a large coat.” Edelgard grins at the sight of her companion dragging an oversized, gray coat around over her body, “it’s nice no doubt about it, but big.”

“It’s a gift from my dad,” Byleth answers, pulling the sleeves back and allowing it to pool near her shoulders, “I really like it, and it keeps me warm.”

A small tea party between her and Hubert was something Byleth didn’t expect, but it wasn’t unwanted. The mercenary seldom had time to have tea. Most of the time she was chugging water whenever she had the chance to have it during her long days and nights of journeying. Tea was a luxury to her. Yet, the citrusy-scent of bergamot tea was lovely. It reminds her of a very relaxed, “homey” feeling; a feeling she wasn’t fully accustomed to either _(since she was always on the move after all)._

“What kind of tea is this?” A sip. The tea was mildly bitter even in terms of aftertaste, but it had a citrus flavor that smoothed the bitterness away. “It’s wonderful.”

“Bergamot.” Edelgard responds, her lips now forming a smile, “it’s my favorite tea.”

“Are there other teas you like, Edelgard?” Another sip.

“Mmm...there’s a blend called Hresvelg blend, but I tend to just stick with bergamot. I don’t mind other teas like chamomile, lavender or even rose petal...something about bergamot sticks with me.”

“I don’t really have experience with tea,” Byleth admits, _almost_ feeling embarrassed by it in comparison to Edelgard’s vast knowledge of tea, “but I really like this tea even if it can be a little bitter.”

“Is that so?” Edelgard ponders a bit as she hums softly to herself, “I could give you other teas some other time if you’re still here in Enbarr. You’d be surprised on the wide range of smell and flavor teas carry. It’s unique.”

“I...would like that.”

It’s awkward when the conversation dies. Byleth feels that she should force a conversation going as dabbling in silence for too long could be off-putting and may be perceived as indifferent. It’s confusing that she wants to continue to impress Edelgard, being her first friend and while being the best friend she could be for the princess. Though, the mercenary knows she can only go so far before she hits a dead end in her endeavor. It was inevitable fate to endure the temporary friendship. _Unless…_

“I...know I won’t always be here and I may or may not see you again but…”

Edelgard quirks a brow. “But…?” she repeats the word, waiting for the rest of the sentence.

“but...I want to make a promise to you.”

“A promise?”

Both Edelgard and Byleth are aware that promises are ever so fragile, and are often broken. Though, a small innocent promise will do no harm. Edelgard does hope that Byleth doesn’t make a promise too...large and impossible to fulfill due to both their circumstances. Byleth is aware of the situation, but chose to do a simple one.

“I want to promise you that...if we ever see each other again...I want to do all the same things we’ve done...just...being around each other, learning about each other...I want us to be really good friends, if the opportunity arises.” Byleth casts her eyes and head downward, taking small breaths to keep her nerves down. _It’s a lot to process._

Edelgard’s small, modest laugh responds to the promise. How innocent, she ponders to herself, before reaching her hand forward to Byleth. “Place your hand on top of mine.” she says, allowing herself to smile even more.

Blinking and nodding, Byleth abides to the request, placing her hand on top of Edelgard’s. She feels the soft, smooth skin under her palm and calloused fingers, it’s a contrast compared to her hand’s condition. The hand was also smaller than hers as well, and it feels like she has to be careful when handling Edelgard, or else Hubert would come after her with his dark magic. Dark magic was the last thing she wants to see, and certainly she doesn’t want Jeralt hunting her friends as an act of revenge either.

Edelgard places her thumb over the dorsal surface of Byleth’s hand, gently gripping to hold their hands in place. “Promises like that...are most likely going to be broken as time passes. But...if the opportunity does arise, like you say...I will gladly accept.” the brunette notices the faintest of smiles on her companion’s complexion, causing her own smile to widen further.

_It’s comforting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some troubles trying to figure out what to do for this chapter so it's a little smaller than usual. Apologize for any discrepancies that appear! Things will get a bit more angsty and ominous after this chapter. 
> 
> twitter: https://twitter.com/luciaskyraine // my twitter as usual for any edeleth retweet propaganda


	4. Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your pain is your strength. Your anger is your guidance. 
> 
> \---  
> A/N: Triggering content present in this chapter. After the childhood segment and into Byleth's first kill, there is descriptive writing of corpses and how she does her kills. Please read at your own risk. You may continue to read starting "Byleth we're done" to the end if you are uneasy with reading descriptive gore. Rating changed to E due to this. 
> 
> Tldr summary; Byleth represses her grief, heartache and emotional agony for years. Due to being unable to understand and cope with such emotions, they come out in the worst way. She dissociates during battle and earns her title. Byleth with her blankface + internal emotional turmoil is my biggest guilty thing that I adore.

From the flavors of tea to the scent of flowers, days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. Seasons change from luscious green to the hues of orange and reds, much like the colors of the sunset, and very much like the reds of the Adrestian Empire. Byleth finds herself engrossed almost beyond salvation, the feeling of companionship was _medicine_ all on its own. She remembers telling her father the stories of what she had done that day---from hearing stories about Edelgard’s older siblings, stories about Hubert, stories about her parents such as how they fell in love upon first sight. It was as if the ashen-colored world finally emitted a light of salvation, a light filled with color and tenderness. 

She remembers the day where Edelgard had commented that she should get her coat tailored to fit her size---it’s a hassle and dangerous for her to be dragging such a heavy coat upon her shoulders when in battle. Any hindrance in battles will cost her life, and such a fact has allowed Byleth to come up with an impulsive decision. 

Cutting at the underarms of the sleeves of her coat. 

Byleth remembers Edelgard’s bafflement and Hubert’s judgemental words and gaze. “ _How dumb”,_ she remembers Hubert muttering under his breath, shaking his head as she places herself within the gray coat, arms slipping through perfectly. _“It can’t hinder me if my arms are out now,”_ she remembers saying to Hubert in response, clearly exhibiting childish _pride_ in her quick solution. 

She remembers the way Edelgard laughs, innocent, feminine and certainly filled with amusement and joy. Despite the way she had felt her cheeks color with the stain of _red_ , she found her laughter all worth the while. Byleth remembers feeling _embarrassment_ for the first time in her life. It was uncomfortable, but that was part of life was it not? To feel every ounce of emotions ranging from anger, joy, sorrow, frustration and even _pain,_ to live was to experience _everything_ that life threw. 

Life after all, favored no one. It simply existed just because. 

Though life itself never said it was going to be _fair._ Fairness and justice, all subjective upon the beholder of perceptions. Byleth felt the _agony_ of life’s cruelty on the day Edelgard failed to fulfill her words of promise--- _to meet Byleth on that day to give her something._

Byleth had felt that perhaps Edelgard was _busy_ on that day and did not have the opportunity to tell her otherwise. She never suspects Hubert to leave the imperial princess’s side---it was his _life’s_ duty after all; protecting Edelgard was his constant mission. She continues to wait, watching the birds soar across the sky, watching the small mammals skitter through the grass at the park that they constantly met at. The flowers maintained their stance despite the change of seasons; _such durable things…_ Byleth ponders to herself. 

Edelgard never arrives that day. 

Byleth tries again the next day. She waits with the same patience that Edelgard has portrayed for her---she was late a view times due to some duties she had before rushing to meet with the imperial duo. She waits, and waits...and _waits._ The pain in her unbeating heart continues to _ache--_ it begins to electrify the _worry_ in her mind. Yet, Byleth continues to believe that Edelgard was simply held back due to her duties. Edelgard is a princess after all, she doesn’t expect the princess to always have the time for her. 

Edelgard never arrives that day. 

Again. The next day, Byleth awaits at the park, feeling the wind blow against her body, her hair sways with the direction of the air--as if being dragged away with it. Her hands formed fists, her brows scrunch up. _I’m worried._ Byleth speaks to herself with her own mind. 

Edelgard never arrives that day. Byleth leaves early. 

Thunder looms and rain pours. The skies dull with the colors of nightmares, gray, black and utterly devoid of color. Her coat is the only barrier that protects her from the merciless rain, her teal-hued locks of hair drenched and dripping droplets of the chilly rain. She does not wait for long, knowing that she feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes, her body shivers from the temperature drop in her body. She leaves and goes back home, having Jeralt _scold_ her on her reckless behavior. Scolding her that if she were to be sick that it would worry him endlessly and that she would be in bed all day. Byleth doesn’t mind the discipline--she deserves it for staying out for too long after all. 

Yet, the pain in her heart does not cease. 

Edelgard still doesn’t arrive. 

_Maybe she’s sick..._ Byleth would think to herself one night. _Or maybe she has some studying to do._ Another thought. _Maybe she had...to go away somewhere._

All these logical, reasonable, rational thoughts. Yet, somewhere deep down, a sense of _betrayal_ was felt. Byleth lifts her own hand, sky-hued irises stare at the palm, the same palm that held Edelgard’s hand that one day when she made her promise. “I made...a promise with you…” she weakly mumbles under her breath, “yet...I knew this day would come. It...doesn’t hurt any less.” 

_It hurt._ “I couldn’t even say goodbye to you, Edelgard.” 

She tries one last time. Hope. _Hope_ that Edelgard was there to explain why she had been gone for so long. _Hope_ that she could see her again. To hear her laugh, to see her smile. To hold her hand. All these innocent thoughts all compiled into a pile of raw hope. Byleth feels _foolish_ despite knowing that this was inevitable fate and that she should have heeded her father’s words more attentively. It would have saved her from the heartache that she is experiencing. 

She doesn’t see Edelgard nor Hubert within sight. The field of flowers littering the park is all that her eyes can bear witness to. It feels dull without Edelgard and Hubert in her life, but she cannot help but maintain the neutral, blank-faced expression she had always carried. There was no purpose for her to smile, frown or even express emotions when all of the emotions she felt were within her heart in constant turmoil. 

Nostalgia forces Byleth to walk into the park, into the field of flowers where she spent many tender moments with the imperial princess. The mercenary remembers the day where she had watched Edelgard make a crown of flowers, placing them onto her head. She remembers her own digits attempting the delicate procedure, only to make a crown that fell apart after a few moments on Edelgard’s light brown locks of hair. She remembers the smile, the laughter that she gave towards the finished project. Byleth remembers Edelgard giving her gratitude for the attempt--it validates the thought put into the craft at the very least. 

She remembers the other day where they sat under the tree together, sweets in their hands as they shared the delicacies with each other. Describing the savoriness and sweetness of the baked goods. It was sweet on Byleth’s tongue--she remembers, but it wasn’t as sweet as when Edelgard describes it. It will never be as sweet then the smile and friendship she shared. _I miss her._ Byleth concludes with her thoughts, walking past the tree that held many of her memories. _I miss her…_ she continues to think bitterly, walking into the flowers where they shared moments making flower crowns. 

_I miss her--_

A sudden weak cry was heard, shaking the teal-haired mercenary out of her bittersweet thoughts. She continues to walk closer to the source of the noise, boots treading carefully into the field of flowers she grew accustomed to. Sky-hued irises peer at the flowers, noticing a weak eagle laying down, crushing some of the red carnations and white lilies. She notices that it was the exact same spot where she had ran into Edelgard the second time, the time where she had told the imperial princess that red carnations were beautiful and that they suited her. 

Byleth paints a straight line with her lips, jaw clenched and pupils honed and focused onto the weakened and dying bird. She crouches, keeping her distance, but observes the way the eagle heaves heavily, chest rising and falling, wings tattered and torn. She knows better than to touch a dying animal---it would carry too much of a risk and she knows Jeralt would never let her leave for the longest time if she were to contract some fatal disease from touching animals. The moment the bird perks its head up, and its eyes made contact with hers, Byleth feels a sense of _sympathy._ Caring for injured and dying animals was not within her specialties. She was far more accustomed in hunting and killing for survival. Tending basic injuries with bandages was another skill she possessed, but it would not be enough to save a dying, sick animal that she found in the wild. 

_Life is fragile, isn’t it?_

She continues to watch, and watch, until the eagle’s breathing ceases and it remains frozen in time on the field of flowers. A sick knot forms within her stomach, and Byleth forces herself up from her crouching position, feeling the ache burn up from her feet to her thighs. She gives the dead eagle one last glance before she returns back home. 

She gives up trying to meet with Edelgard. 

Memories continue to burn in her mind as the months turn to years. Her physique grows, her strength improves, her agility swift, her mind sharper than her youth. She drowns her repressed aches and sorrows into the back of her mind as days continue to pass. She remembers when Jeralt had said that it was time to leave the empire. Their next assignment was at the Alliance. Byleth remembers nodding, not saying much after. She avoids answering questions when it regarded Edelgard. She avoids answering questions about her feelings and thoughts about friends. Byleth simply gave vague answers that barely satisfied her father’s curiosity. 

Byleth simply didn’t want to tear open the closed wounds she attempted to sew back in her heart. It _hurt_ too much to even _think_ about Edelgard and how she simply stopped coming one day. She wanted answers, but knew she would never know them and it was best to forget, to focus on her growth as a mercenary. Friendship is temporary; Jeralt would always emphasize this. 

The mercenary continued to repress her emotions, the aches and pains she felt on that day. She was an idiot, but it was life after all. To live was to experience everything, even if it hurts, but it didn’t mean that she _had_ to like the _pain_ that came from letting herself be vulnerable. She continues to grip the pain in her own two hands, strangling, squeezing the life out of it-- _a desperate way to end her own pain._

It works, at least for a short amount of time. She doesn’t feel much for quite some time. 

\-----

Blood splatters across the front of her body, the iron drips with the crimson liquid, staining the darkened grass underneath. Byleth stares at the fallen body, her hand shaking, causing the sword along with her grip to tremble. _My first kill._

The mercenary is unsure how to _feel._ Lost? Angry? Sad? She finds herself completely _devoid_ of any feeling. Jeralt’s words reverberate in her mind; -- _Maybe you’ll feel guilty, angry...lost even. I want you to know that your first kill will hurt you the most in subtle ways. Each person has their own way of feeling when it comes to their first kill. Know that your way when the time comes is just as significant._

Perhaps it was her way of coping with dealing with murder--

“--...I’m...sorry.” Byleth hears the man she had sliced mutter, his voice rasps, “g-guess...I won’t be...going...home...sister…” 

Her blood freezes upon hearing the final words of a dying person. _I...I just killed someone who had...family._ Her body trembles again, and a heated sensation bubbles against her chest, her stomach, head buzzing with adrenaline. Jaw clenched, fist gripped onto the hilt of her blade, her knuckles begin to become devoid of color and turn into a pale hue. _Anger...I...I’m angry._ Byleth can identify the feeling of anger---having to have felt it before in vague matters. 

_How unfair._ She would bitterly contemplate to herself, before hearing another loud set of footsteps and a shrill yell before she twists her body, allowing the iron blade to cut through fabric in skin, spraying blood against her and the ground once again. 

_Thud._

Another body down for the count. Two kills on her first mission on the battlefield. _How unsightly._

**_Kill them. Your pain is your strength. Your anger is your guidance._ **

Jaw clenched again, Byleth heaves in a breath, feeling the heated sensation gnaw at her entire body...as if a _phantom_ had possessed her current state of affairs. She ignores the voice in her head _(her own voice),_ and continues to rush at the bandits charging her way, cutting them down one by one. 

**_That’s it. More. Kill them all. It’s how you will survive in this world._ **

_Shut up._ Byleth tells herself, talking back at the inner thought communicating with her. _I never wanted to take away someone’s family._

**_Our father taught you the reality of this world. Or have you forgotten because you were abandoned by someone you held dear?_ **

_Shut up!!_

A choked gag is heard, another _thud_ crashes against the ground. Byleth heaves, her eyes pinned on the battlefield--she feels like a _predator_ , hunting all of these bandits that dared trouble the poor town that her group was hired for. The sword in her grasp is knocked out, a fresh wound appears on her forearm. She lets out a small cry of _agony,_ feeling the heat rush and sensation rush to her spine and up into her mind. **_Pain is your strength. Anger is your guidance. You’re overjoyed aren’t you? Being able to use your pain as a weapon. To finally release the years of agony you held for years!_ **

Byleth ignores the voice in her head, and clenches her fist to use it as a weapon, punching the bandit in his gut, toppling over him before she uses her free arm to strangle him, the other hand aggressively punching the man in the face. Over, and over, and over again. She knows her expression is neutral, unbearing any savagery of a wild animal. She refuses. The battlefield was not the place to show _weakness_ . Emotions _are weaknesses._

Begs from the victim are dull in her eardrums, she hears the crack of bone, and the sound of flesh being pounded by her fist over and over, blood stains her arm, her body, her face, yet she does not care. She hears the bones crack further, finds that once she was finished that his face was caved in, bones piercing at the cornea of the dead man’s eyes, his nose crushed and concave from the outward pressure. His face was indistinguishable, and she simply did not care. It was her job as a mercenary to do what she was paid to do. To _kill._ To _hunt_ those who have wronged others, even though the world was not as black and white. 

“Get away from her! She’s a demon!” Byleth hears a man scream, running away from her. She picks her fallen sword, chasing after the small group of bandits that were fleeing. 

She notes the slower of the men, immediately charging, using all of her strength in her legs to push forward before she leaps, digging her blade into the back of the neck of her victim. The blade slices downwards, opening the back of the victim’s back, exposing tendons, his spinal cord and the muscles that oozed out fresh blood onto the ground. She stabs at the back of his neck again, an extra precaution to ensure the man was dead and will not suffer the aftermath of what she did. 

_“Byleth, we’re done.”_

Jeralt approaches his daughter carefully, noting the body language and current state of her. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing it softly to shake her out of the trance he notices she’s in. _“Hey, how are you holding up?”_ he inquires, concern drips from the tip of his tongue. 

Inhaling the air and smelling the fresh smell of blood causes the heated adrenaline to convert to sickness into her stomach. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was reality being on the battlefield. “I’m holding up well. Feel nauseated...but overall, well.” she’d reply shortly after, allowing herself to ride out the rest of the sudden new sensations pooling into her body. 

She hears Jeralt grunt and hum to himself and she faces her father with her expression neutral, eyes devoid of any emotion. It was rough, he understands that very much. Being on the battlefield for the first time...no doubt he suspects that his only child was going through stress shock. He knows that his daughter seldom emotes and expresses her feelings, but he is aware she expresses it in different ways. Her habits and behavior speak of the world; sometimes words weren’t needed--a good father knows how to read his own flesh and blood, even if the child was a bit _strange._

_“It takes time to adjust,”_ he replies, careful with his words, _“the rest of the herd had ran off. Good work today on the battlefield, kid. You deserve to rest for a while...to cope and let the emotions of your first kill ride out.”_

Byleth doesn’t reply, but she looks up into her father’s chocolate-hued eyes. _“I can tell you’re shaken up. Train if you’re able to, but don’t push it. Take the time you need. You’re still young...and I don’t want you being reckless out there.”_ she hears Jeralt speak again, and this time she nods, allowing some closure that she had heard his words. 

\------

Phantoms of the past begin to haunt her in her rest, the void is filled with the merciless cries of the victims she slayed. _“You killed my brother! I won’t forgive you!”_ she’d hear a girl scream at her, and her eyes fixate on the body of the man she murdered, apologizing for being unable to see his beloved sister again. 

_“You’re a demon!”_ She hears the chorus of voices come at towards her. 

For every kill she’s done, she could hear the past haunt her, accusing her of crimes just for existing--for doing a _job_ she was paid for. Byleth allows her dreams to _haunt_ her. She’s deserved it after all. A mercenary isn’t a knight; chivalry doesn’t exist in the life of a mercenary. However, the now older mercenary is aware that she certainly believes that life wasn’t fair. The innocent are slain, the corrupt get away with everything. She wonders where she’s placed in terms of morality, but she doesn’t want to think too deeply on it. 

A phantom continues to haunt her--to become her _shadow._ Nothing Byleth did would make this wretched being leave her in peace. This very phantom gave her pain, and she forgets where and why it appeared. 

**_Your name…_ ** Byleth hears that inner voice speak again, but she cannot help but to look downwards in her own dream. **_The Ashen Demon. How suiting for someone not very human._ **

In a sense, her inner words, her inner phantom was right. She wasn’t very human, was she? Not after what she had felt and forgotten. Especially not after what she had done in this present life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitimately cried writing the first half of this, then the second half happened and I'm here just welp, the cat is out of the bag. I love writing and reading Byleth with emotions--I absolutely ADORE having her endure emotional turmoil and obstacles even if she doesn't express itself often. It's...such a mood and I feel a connection to this. Regardless, I do hope you guys like this chapter even though it escalated from 0 to 100 real fast here! 
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/luciaskyraine // my twitter as always if you guys want to see what I retweet or whatever!


	5. Spring to Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello.” she hears the boy speak towards her, head tilting slightly out of curiosity, “I’m Dimitri. What’s your name?” 
> 
> So casual. Edelgard sighs to herself, but it was inevitable. Despite being highly awkward in social situations, she wasn’t rude to those who addressed her--especially those around her age. “Edelgard.” she answers quickly, “you’re the king’s son, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -slaps this chapter- This chapter can fit so much Edelgard von Hresvelg with suffering. And it's 5.7k words long! The longest chapter yet! Next chapter will focus on Byleth meeting Edelgard again like in-game. It begins! 
> 
> The last bit of this chapter has Edelgard's...experimentation life and may not be pleasant. Read at your own risk. 
> 
> Note: Updates will be slower now due to winter semester coming up and I may not have the time due to this being the last semester of nursing school for me. I am amazed of the support I have for this fanfic and I do hope I continue to serve up good content for you all! Also happy holidays and a happy new year!

“You ought to stay indoors at all times. Never leave the residence unless you seek ‘disciplinary’ action, Edelgard.” 

“Of course, Uncle.” 

The door shuts and the imperial princess stares out of the window. There was weariness in her complexion, the light in her eyes drained of all life. Edelgard was simply  _ miserable. _ It happened all to sudden at the dead of night, she was whisked away, forced to follow her uncle and next thing she knew, she was in Faerghus. The greens of Enbarr were no longer visible to her lilac-hued optics, and the brunette simply sighs as she continues gazing out of the window, noting the dull, earthy colors and the hint of light snowfall. 

Faeghus was nowhere near like Enbarr. The kingdom certainly had hardened soil, dull, rigid and filled with cracks. Trees were beginning to strip of their colorful leaves, and while it wasn’t entirely barren, there were some crops that did find the hardened soil to be of a proper housing spot. There were trees that had needles, pine trees were a delicacy back in the empire, except when it came to the forests. 

She  _ misses _ her homeland, her family, her  _ friends.  _ Yet, she had no choice but to live in utter solitude and been told to bite and bear with it. Arundel had seldom answered her questions about why and where. He only simply spoke cautiously, avoiding the main topic and simply stated that  _ it was necessary _ and she had no choice but to follow his orders.  _ Fear _ was something she had felt in that time---she  _ never _ enjoyed her uncle’s company.  _ Something about him was off.  _

Of course any rebellious behavior would only get her berated by the imbalance of power of adults combined with a  _ vice _ grip upon her wrist. Said grip had caused the blood to  _ almost _ cease going to her hand and the nerves at her arm would ache and scream in agony. It was too much for her body. None of her siblings had come with them. Oddly, it was just her. Oddly, it was just Hubert as well. And Hubert, unlike the servants at her home, would  _ always _ be by her side, like a shadow, a dark guardian that protected her from harm. A guardian who provided her with plenty of reason, logic and of course would  _ always _ tell her everything that was necessary. 

Edelgard feels  _ vulnerable _ without Hubert. He would have been near her or be with her as not only a servant, but her  _ personal _ retainer. Without him, she doesn’t know what to do. She often spent most of her time with him and her siblings until she met Byleth. But Byleth as well, was never going to come with her. Most of the people she’s familiar with are unaware of  _ who _ the mercenary was. A commoner was less likely known to nobles unless they performed incredible deeds worthy of acknowledgement. She certainly had heard stories about Byleth’s father, his title being the  _ Blade Breaker _ and his ability to break the focus of enemies and aim for the kill. While he was a commoner, his title was of tremendous talk. 

Regardless with her thoughts, all Edelgard could do was simply hibernate in her own room, have a walk around the residence or stay cooped up in the library. There weren’t many options to keep herself occupied. She fears that she’s going to lose her  _ sanity _ by staying indoors and being unable to  _ socialize _ with anyone except for her uncle who would come in to keep a watchful eye on her. Part of her knows that if she were caught sneaking out of the area out of her own rebellious nature that she would  _ never _ hear the end of it from Arundel. Another part of her  _ fears _ what he’s been plotting seeing there had been some chaos back at home. 

What’s worse is that she’s definitely unsure how long she’ll remain in the kingdom. All the vague answers and avoidance of blunt truths is what will keep her gambling with the devil in terms of when she’ll be free from captivity.  _ It’s obnoxious,  _ she ponders, head resting on the window sill and boredom begins to creep up in her body. Her mind begins to ache from the lack of activity that she was ever so accustomed to back home--her siblings would  _ constantly _ drag her around places to either play with her or if they were like her older brothers, spar with her with wooden swords. The concept of being able to protect the family was subtle motivation for her brothers. The brunette wouldn’t ever mind learning how to use swords seeing she is of royal blood and assassination attempts could occur in the future. 

She ultimately decides to venture out of the room and into the library, informing her uncle of where she’ll be. She plans on hibernating there at least rather than in her room pondering endlessly with her thoughts. Plus, it’s a distraction. It keeps her from worrying about what is going to happen from then on since it appears she’ll be stuck in a winter-like area for quite some time. 

Edelgard is grateful that the library is barren--aside from the books of course; it’s a gold mine of knowledge and written fables and stories. She doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone, and rather, she enjoys the solitude once in a while. The imperial princess allows her eyes to scan the dabbled ink onto pages, learning of the history of the kingdom.  _ The great lion king, Loog. History of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. A list of Kingdom Nobles. Gautier. Galatea. Fraldarius.  _ “Interesting.” Edelgard muses to herself, quirking a brow as she flips pages. 

Possibility of her marrying into a noble family in Faerghus is certainly plausible. Of course she hadn’t been betrothed yet  _ (thankfully) _ ; being royal-blooded meant doing things out of necessity and out of politics. Still, the possibility was incredibly slim, seeing the empire was majority of the continent of Fodlan, and certainly it was most likely she would be given away to a noble in her own home territory rather than outside of it. 

Lilac eyes finds books about the empire and she scans them as well. Familiar information to her, but things have been reworded, catering to the kingdom citizens. It’s  _ intriguing _ to find differences based on perspective alone. Edelgard finds mistakes in writing, but corrects them in her mind. She’s fascinated at the very least by the differences and subtle tones used in the writing. 

The next time she visits the library is on a different day; bright and early after some morning tea. Her uncle of course vanishes to goddess knows where, but she knows that he was notorious for creeping up on specific individuals whenever it suited his needs. Thus she begins to hibernate at the library, picking out novels from the fiction section and allowing herself to indulge. At the very least she’s keeping herself occupied, and taming the demon of homesickness away with mere distraction. 

It seems that the novel she had chosen to read was romance in terms of genre--the description of cliche forbidden love; royalty and those born of common birth. Edelgard quirks the edge of her lips slightly in amusement. It’s always been typical, but often she’s reminded of how many nobles did have consorts that were of women and men of common birth and of course it reminds her of how overly cliche and overdone it is. Even for someone as young as her, she’s not immune to eavesdropping on tales from adults gossiping. Though, the story has an interesting twists and turns. War was inevitable it seems in this world, and often glorified as noble. Chivalry was certainly...something of course. Edelgard wasn’t too aware of the ethics and codes relating to chivalry and knighthood. Still...the way the story describes the main hero...it reminds her of…

_ Byleth.  _

A frown begins to form on the princess’s expression, her mind wanders to the friend she had suddenly left behind against her will. She had promised her a gift--a token of appreciation for their friendship and yet, her uncle of all people had whisked her away without allowing her to give a formal farewell. It certainly  _ stings _ like a hornet against soft skin, but it was inevitable despite her protests. A sigh escapes from the back of her throat.  _ Strong, courageous... _ a couple of words Edelgard thinks of when it came to Byleth. 

She misses her.  _ A lot.  _

Edelgard feels her vision blur slightly, and the room becomes  _ chillier _ all of a sudden. Fingertips immediately brush against the skin under her eyes, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall. “Why...do I feel so sad about this?” she ponders to herself. “It’s...not like I wasn’t expecting this.” 

Unread pages were left in the library that day. 

Other times, Edelgard attempts to paint scenery; a change of pace from reading all day long. She attempts to paint trees, the soil, the few flowers she sees out of her window. Other times when she dedicates her days in the kingdom, she paints the time; sunset, sunrise, the night. She paints the bird that nests in the trees, the occasional rabbit peeking out from its den, the fox that yawns and rests under the pine trees for respite from a long journey. Her art wasn’t  _ good _ , but of course she wasn’t going to be an artist. It was...simply a hobby, an activity to pass time and keep her occupied from the thoughts about her family, friends and the scenery back at Enbarr. 

One day she decides to rest and gaze out of the window, watching the scenery change, eyes watching the stars in the night sky twinkle and shine from far away. It’s refreshing at the very least, albeit  _ chilly _ due to the temperature changes compared to the empire. Her lilac eyes notice an animal treading across her perspective, and she notices the eyes that seem to pierce right at her. Amber eyes continue to stare at her, its paws frozen in place.  _ A wolf,  _ she notes to herself, keeping her gaze at the animal. 

It’s intimidating at the very least, seeing such a noble animal stare at her, unflinching, ears perked, tail swaying ever so slightly.  _ Perhaps it’s curious?  _ Edelgard wasn’t the best in terms of reading body language from animals, but what she senses was not one of malice. She knows she isn’t going to be mauled by a wild animal so long as she didn’t provoke it. Edelgard watches the wolf leave her visage and she continues her usual routine for the day. It feels like some  _ odd _ omen; a feeling she can’t seem to shake off for the rest of the day. 

\-----

A political meeting. The life of a noble was certainly  _ tedious _ , and in a sense, Edelgard is glad that she was one of the  _ younger _ ones in the family. Aside from her baby sibling of course. She wasn’t the youngest when one of her father’s consorts gave her yet another sibling. Still, she can’t help but peek from her hiding spot, watching her uncle and the king of Faerghus communicating over politics and the like. Edelgard wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but it was a change of pace for once, and certainly one where she actually  _ sees _ her uncle for once in these weary days. 

Lilac irises peer at the boy with short, blond-hair with aqua-hued eyes. He appears to be around her age, Edelgard estimates and she notices that his eyes look at her in return. The brunette princess hides back from where she was peeking from, hearing her name being spoken by Arundel and hearing the king and his son speak. Sound of light footsteps are heard. Edelgard finds her adrenaline peaking up and she  _ almost _ panics seeing it had been a couple of months since she had contact with someone around her age. 

“Hello.” she hears the boy speak towards her, head tilting slightly out of curiosity, “I’m Dimitri. What’s your name?” 

_ So casual.  _ Edelgard sighs to herself, but it was inevitable. Despite being highly awkward in social situations, she wasn’t  _ rude _ to those who addressed her--especially those around her age. “Edelgard.” she answers quickly, “you’re the king’s son, right?”

“Yup!” Dimitri chimes in response, a small smile on his complexion, “I didn’t think I would meet someone around my age here.” A small pause. “Do...you want to do something together? It seems that I’ll be here for a while...and I don’t think you would want to remain standing there listening to the adults talk about politics all day.” 

Edelgard finds herself dumbfounded. Again, it had been a while since she  _ ever _ had company ever since she left Enbarr. The sudden invitation was unexpected at the very least, but seeing that both of them were still children and had zero interest in politics, it was best to distract each other until one of them had to leave. Dimitri did have a point. It was idiocy and a waste of time listening on the adults talk about politics and other necessities while bearing very little understanding towards those specific topics. Plus, it was daunting imagining  _ standing _ there all day listening to the rambling. 

“Sure.” Edelgard answers, nodding slowly, but a small frown appears on her expression shortly after, “Unfortunately...I’m not the most sociable person around. I’m unsure what I can offer aside from having tea and a conversation. Unless you have other ideas.” 

Dimitri hums to himself, immediately guiding his hand to his chin, pondering. He remembers meeting Ingrid the first time--having to bond with her was difficult at first, but sparring and stories about knights assisted him there. Then there was Felix. Felix only craved the clashing of blades thanks to his brother’s behavior and certainly it made sense to offer sparring to bond with him. Sylvain on the other hand preferred tea and flirtations--obviously talking about girls and other domestic behavior helped him there. Yet, Edelgard was  _ different.  _ There was a different aura to her he senses, and of course this made things difficult. “Well...I can offer sparring, but...I’m unsure if you’d like that. I can go with some tea if you’re really stubborn about it.” 

_ Stubborn, huh?  _ Edelgard puts on a wry smile at that comment. No offense was taken from his remarks, but it was amusing how the idea of a stubborn, bratty princess may have been portrayed by her body language towards the prince. “I could go for a sparring match,” she says, almost out of  _ petty spite _ to prove him wrong. “I don’t mind getting a bit physical; especially to boys.” 

Of course. She had older brothers who would force her to spar with them.  _ It’s for your own good, El!  _ She remembers one of them lecture her.  _ What if one day we aren’t around and you have to defend yourself?  _ Another memory with her siblings. Of course, they were right. They couldn’t always be by her side and eventually she too would need to know the art of combat if she were to survive in this world alone someday. Plus... _ it would impress Byleth in a way... _ she ponders, remembering how she would spar with the mercenary and  _ lose _ every single time. Perhaps if they did meet again, their skills in combat would be more evenly matched. 

Edelgard notes the blinking of aqua eyes at her acceptance for a sparring match. It continues to amuse her, her grin widening. Whether she won or lost, it certainly wouldn’t be an  _ easy _ match at all. She was  _ far _ too stubborn to lose quickly--especially from a prince who may have contemplated that she was far too fragile and reluctant to get her hands dirty. She remains silent about her status of course, Arundel had insisted she behave as a commoner or a noble; not a  _ princess.  _ “Hm?” Edelgard hums at Dimitri, head tilting to the side, “did you think I wouldn’t accept a sparring match, Dimitri?” 

“I--” Dimitri finds himself flustered, but he immediately swallows down his surprise and answers her back accordingly, “I didn’t actually...but I always enjoy a good practice match. It’s what I do with my friends.” 

“Oh?” This was fascinating to hear about. “I suppose Faerghus is known for its code of ethics in terms of being a knight and being chivalrous. Am I wrong?” 

“Well,” Dimitri allows his foot to drag back a bit, his arms behind his back in a respectful manner, “you aren’t wrong. Ingrid especially wants to be a knight and she often asks to practice her technique with me. Felix doesn’t really...care about being a knight but he’s really invested in getting stronger. Sylvain is a different case I’d say but I don’t really talk about him.” 

Edelgard couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the mention of Sylvain.  _ He seems like an odd one, _ she muses to herself. “Well, I am a citizen of the kingdom. Don’t think I wouldn’t be a part of that sort of lifestyle.” 

“Of course.” Dimitri nods, “I’ll get the wooden swords unless you want to use something else...like a spear or an axe.”

_ An axe, huh?  _ Edelgard knows that axes weren’t the most common weapon due to how clunky and heavy they are. It took a tremendous amount of strength to use such a weapon and often  _ bandits _ along with thieves would use them. It’s sort of a stereotype she had grown accustomed to, but she was far more accustomed to a blade. “A sword is good, thanks.” she answers, though lances and axes were part of her curiosity. “Perhaps if we had time I’ll switch it up and use a wooden spear or a wooden axe.” 

“Sounds good to me!” 

Dimitri definitely sounded eager. A new sparring partner for him? Perhaps. Edelgard doesn’t mind having a new friend, but she’s far more concerned about handling her current state of mind and emotions. 

Next thing she knows, she finds herself outside, wooden sword in her hand, and her opponent ready. Dimitri immediately launches himself towards her and the princess finds herself using her utmost strength to block the attack, feeling the strength of his muscles nearly overpower hers. It definitely showed that he was accustomed to the arts of training, and that was his  _ advantage. _ Edelgard staggers back and blocks another attack, but she keeps her lilac eyes focused on the blond-haired prince, finding an opening before launching her own attack back at him. 

“Not bad,” Dimitri compliments her, keeping his distance from her. “I didn’t think you were this good at fighting.” 

“Hmph.” Edelgard scoffs, before launching her attack once again, hearing the clash of wood. “If you don’t know how to use a weapon, you’d be good as dead in this world.” 

“That’s true.” Dimitri answers back, launching his own attack, “it’s why I want to keep training and one day protect those who I love the most.” 

More sounds of clashing wood. “How ambitious of you, Dimitri.” 

Edelgard finds herself feeling the ground with her back, mildly wincing upon feeling the impact, the wooden blade placed against her throat.  _ Of course I’d lose.  _ She muses once again to herself, before watching Dimitri get off of her. “You put up a good fight Edelgard,” Dimitri announces, assisting the brunette back onto her feet, “even if you did lose, you certainly wouldn’t go down without a fight.” 

“Of course,” Edelgard allows a wry smile on her expression, and she immediately takes her training sword and allows the blade to touch where Dimitri’s carotid would be. “If this was a real battle…” she answers, “you may have lost your life.” 

“Well that’s hardly ever fair,” Dimitri frowns, allowing his hand to push the training blade away. 

“Since when is there fairness in combat?” Edelgard questions, feeling the cynicalism seeping through, “you know I’m right, Dimitri.” 

Dimitri sighs in defeat. “Right...” 

There was still time and the king and her uncle had not arrived to interrupt their session. Edelgard almost  _ sighs,  _ seeing that the prince had decided that swapping weapons would be a good idea. She does end up surprised however, seeing how the wooden axe feels in her hand, the weight obviously heavier than a sword, but it cuts through the air more easily, the weight of it feels  _ ominously natural _ to her. She finds that she had won the match when it came to axes. Dimitri was  _ clumsy _ with the axe, she notes, using that to her advantage. 

Sparring with lances was a bit more challenging, but there was more distance to it, it worked well but ultimately she  _ lost _ . It seems that lances were Dimitri’s strongest weapon.  _ He must have trained with spears for quite some time,  _ she analyzes. 

It was after that match that Dimitri had to go. While farewells were a common occurrence for the brunette, this one felt a tad painful. She didn’t mind it as much...compared to what she had already left behind. 

\-----

The next time she meets with the prince was when the king had visited yet again for another meeting with her uncle. Edelgard finds herself winning over the dispute on what activity they could do for this visit. Some tea was always good she finds; combined with some sugary treats as well. 

“Chamomile for me, please.” Dimitri requests, and Edelgard notes the choice of tea as she pours him a cup of it. He  _ is _ the guest after all, she’ll deal with not having bergamot for today. 

“Chamomile your favorite?” she inquires, taking a sip and tasting the mild flavor, smelling the nearly scentless tea. “It’s a good choice.” 

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” he replies, allowing himself to indulge in the hot beverage. “It’s also Ingrid’s favorite tea and I’ve grown to love it thanks to her.” 

Edelgard smiles. It was nice to talk about friends. “Ingrid sounds like a very good friend.” 

“She is.” Dimitri smiles in return, “She’s kind, caring...even if she’s a tad bold and strict...but she’s an amazing person. Ambitious even.” 

The princess pushes the tray of sweets towards him, an offering. “She reminds me of one of my friends.” 

Dimitri blinks and tilts his head. “What were they like?” 

An image of Byleth enters her mind, and she remembers the times they’ve spent together. They certainly have done everything together. Pick flowers, make flower crowns, have tea...go exploring together, sparring...so many memories. “She...she’s bold...kind. Protective...she’s a bit strange and doesn’t express her emotions very well...but I...I got to know a lot about her. I ended up  _ understanding _ her.” 

There was something in Dimitri’s eye--a hint of  _ empathy _ perhaps. It’s as if he can  _ tell _ that his new friend felt some sort of  _ yearning _ for the friend she had just described. “Do...do you miss her?” he asks quietly, cautious with his words as he didn’t want to open any closed wounds. 

Edelgard allows silence to envelope both of them, and she soon hears the awkward sip from Dimitri, in an attempt to fill the crippling void. “Yes.” she finally answers. “I do. I really, really do.” 

\-----

Another time she’s met with Dimitri, it was another meeting, but most likely an invitation to the party back at the king’s castle. It was apparent that she had to go--for formal purposes and to accompany her uncle for goddess knows what. Edelgard doesn’t mind of course, she feels a connection to the young prince. Perhaps it was a vain attempt to fill the crippling sorrow she felt from having zero contact with Byleth, Hubert and her siblings. It was  _ awfully lonely _ without them. Not one day passes where she isn’t thinking about them. 

“I...don’t like dancing.” Dimitri sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m just not good at it, El.” 

Of course Edelgard was the only one to tell him that he could call her El, to make it more familiar, more comforting. It was  _ selfish, _ but she truly did see a friend in Dimitri, and he felt family to her in his own way. 

However, his comment made her freeze, lilac eyes staring at him,  _ almost judgmentally.  _ “What.” she breathes out, “how...how can a prince not be good at dancing? I-”  _ she’s baffled.  _

“It’s easier for me to wield a weapon than hold a woman’s hand and dance,” he shrugs in response, “plus...no one really taught me.” 

“Then I’m going to teach you!” Edelgard retorts, immediately taking Dimitri’s hands into her own. 

And they danced. Or at least tried to. For hours. 

“Wrong foot, Dimitri!” Edelgard scolds, huffing, “you’re supposed to lead with your right!” 

Exasperated, Dimitri quips back, “El, the sun’s going down!” he  _ really _ needs to get back home  _ (also to avoid her scolding),  _ “I really outta be heading home…” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat quietly, Dimitri notes the way Edelgard narrows her eyes at him, as if she’s  _ aware _ of what his ulterior motive was. Though, she doesn’t debate, and releases her hands from his. “That’s fair.” she answers, “best that you do go home for I fear that the night could do troubling things to you.” 

\-----

Edelgard wasn’t the most sociable person. She had made that clear. It was highly awkward when Dimitri’s friends had come to meet this  _ friend _ that the prince had been talking about. She notes how Sylvain would  _ instantly _ serenade her with compliments. Of course she rejected it all. She had zero interest in that sort of thing. She notes the way Ingrid smacks the back of the red-head’s head, watching Sylvain rub the back of it before being admonished by the blonde girl. She notes the way Felix lets out his  _ sigh _ , and she definitely can relate to how reluctant they both were in social gatherings. 

She notes the way Dimitri apologizes for his friend’s behaviors. She tells him that it’s completely fine. She never expected people to cater and pander to social norms all the time. She notes the way Dimitri tenses up when she begins to dance with him, the way his feet were skittish, the way he holds her hands incredibly gently--as if he would fracture her hands and wrists if he held too tight. 

She notes the way Dimitri falls on top of her once he missteps, the impact of icy-like floor causes her to shiver, but she can’t help but  _ laugh _ at his clumsiness. All of the practice and all of his tenderness, they end up down on the floor from tripping. 

“I’m so sorry El! I didn’t watch where I--” 

“Dimitri! You clumsy dolt!” she continues to laugh, filling both their ears with her laughter. She hadn’t laughed this hard in  _ ages _ , ever since she left her family and friends in exile. 

Dimitri finds himself laughing too, sharing the moment before he takes her hand and hoists her back up onto her own two feet. “I’m sorry. Let me try again,” he states, a  _ sloppy _ attempt for bringing her down with him in the fall. 

He succeeded in dancing with her during that day. Edelgard feels a sense of  _ pride _ of course. She was the natural dancer in her family. 

\-----

A year seemed like a long time. It certainly  _ is _ a long time. Yet, time flies when memories form and shared memories are retained. Edelgard was  _ finally _ going home. Yet, this familiar pain she feels aches and throbs in her chest. Dimitri had been nothing but a good, close friend to her. Kind, tender, friendly... _ trusting. _ He was exactly what a good friend was. She’ll miss him, but there was a part of her that  _ knows _ , they’ll meet again somewhere. They’re both  _ royalty _ , after all. Royalty was likely to see each other, no matter the distance. 

“El!” Dimitri chases up to her, panting to catch his breath, “So it’s true...you’re really going away? Going back home?” 

There was pain in his voice, but Edelgard chooses to not notice it---it’d hurt her too,  _ just like before. _ “There’s nothing I can do about it.” Edelgard swallows the sensation down to the pit in her gut, “It’s all happening so fast...I’m as surprised as you are.” 

“El…” Dimitri frowns, before pulling out a gift from his pocket, handing it over to her. “Um...here. I want you to have this.” He wanted to give her strength, and he musters all of the courage he has to tell her. “El, listen to me. No matter how hard things get, you can’t give in, okay? You’ve got to cut a path to the future you wish for, no matter what.” 

Edelgard finds herself shaking, lilac eyes wide in surprise as she takes the sharp, deadly gift into her hands. “It’s...a dagger?” she’s  _ baffled, _ “why would you give me something like this?” 

Dimitri downcasts his gaze. He wasn’t the best in expressing his emotions--let alone thinking of  _ proper _ gifts to give to a girl he grew attached to. “Oh, um...I’m sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, “I couldn’t think of anything better to give you.” 

Before Edelgard can answer, she hears the exclamation from her uncle, his tone of voice utterly filled with  _ impatience. _ “Edelgard!” she hears him beckoning her, “What are you doing? It’s time to go. Hurry and get in the carriage.” 

The princess finds her spine tense, sending signals of  _ anxiety  _ into her mind, “Oh! I...I’m sorry, Uncle!” Lilac eyes find mournful aqua irises, and she frowns before giving her farewells to the prince, “I have to go now...goodbye, Dimitri.” 

_ There was so much more I had to say… _ Edelgard tells herself as she runs off before her uncle gives more of his temper away. 

\-----

In all natural sense, winter eventually evolves to spring, giving back life and allowing colors to flourish once again. Yet, there was no “spring” in this world of hers. Edelgard finds herself feeling nothing but  _ pain, _ the way the silver blade cut apart her flesh, droplets of crimson dripping from her arms, her chest, her legs, onto the ground. It stains the fabrics that once protected her and kept her warm. 

Edelgard remembers screaming in agony, crying for her  _ father, _ for her older brothers, her older sisters to come and save her. She remembers seeing no one familiar, she remembers seeing masked mages perform on her like an  _ animal.  _ Their wicked curiosity on her pain was nothing but cruel sadism. 

Edelgard remembers nothing but the pain in her stomach from being neglected. Edelgard remembers the foul, pungent smell of death and despair around her. The cold floor became her habitat. The rats became her only companions, and yet they defiled the  _ dead _ with their fangs and claws. She remembers almost  _ gagging _ and  _ vomiting _ from the sound of slight tearing, skittering and goddess knows what else. 

Edelgard remembers shaking each sibling that was tossed in this overly cramped cell, staining her own digits with their own blood. “Wake up! Please wake up!” she’d beg. She’d beg and beg, and they never woke up. 

_ Cold. It’s...cold… _ Edelgard tells herself as she curls up, the iron chains keeping her pinned to the wall rattling as she allows her head to rest on her knees. Tears continue to flow, and she remembers that Victor, the eldest of them all had kept her warm with his embrace. 

Edelgard remembers when she was supposed to go next, but the crowned prince---the very prince who would become the next emperor offered himself instead of her. If he could survive, then she too would be free from torment. Or so he believed. 

Edelgard remembers scales and darkness, the grumbling and roaring of a  _ demonic beast _ ramming its head against her cell. She remembers being too  _ frightened _ to move, eyes wide with nothing but fear and she finds that the beast was none other than her brother. 

“Take the crest out of him.” Edelgard would hear a mage speak, “the last Hresvelg is our only hope.” 

Edelgard remembers the most agonizing pain in her life. Her screams, her throat clogging with her own blood as she’s choking on it. It was sadistic torture, a cruel fate of hers as she silently begs for the goddess to save her---no one came, not even a miracle. She remembers the way mages would  _ heal _ her up just to keep her alive and yet simultaneously cut her open like a live animal. She feels something being  _ implanted _ and it hurts. She clenches her fists, feeling the burn and sting in her arms travel up to her chest and she lets out another screech before she runs out of energy. 

_ “--fighting! Keep fighting!”  _ she’d hear a distant voice in her head, and she abides, desperate. 

She sees black and finds herself awake in her own bed. Bandages cover her entire body, drenched and stained with blood. Her brown hair no longer brown, she feels her veins and arteries freeze, noting the lack of pigment in her hair. Her skin is pale, her eyes paler as well--lacking the lush lilac hue that she once had. Edelgard wants to cry. She wants to cry when Hubert barges in, panting, breathing and he cries out her name in not only relief, but in  _ terror _ of her state. 

Edelgard finds herself unable to speak, yet Hubert’s embrace only racks up pain in her body. Yet her expression does not change. A part of her dies that day. She was  _ never _ going to be the sweet, tender Edelgard von Hresvelg that others knew.

She remembers when she speaks words again, it was on the day Arundel had paid her a visit. “You’re perfect. The perfect emperor!” he’d speak to himself. 

Edelgard feels disgusted with herself. She’s nothing more than a tool for her uncle’s selfish desires. “I’m...I’m going to save this world…” she’d say to Hubert one day, clenching the sheets of her bed; she feels anger and utter disdain. “I’ll put my siblings to peace...I’ll...I’ll…”

“Lady Edelgard…” Hubert answers, and he allows the only heir to the empire to hold him into an embrace. “I will walk this path with you.” he promises, “I will serve you till the day I die. Together...I’ll make sure your ideals are fulfilled.” 


	6. Tenderness of Snowy Lilacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll be fine,” Edelgard remarks quickly, holding her arm out a tad bit for her own lilac eyes to inspect, “It’s nothing to worry about--”
> 
> “Here,” Byleth interrupts, hand going into her pouch to pull out bandages, “I’ll patch you up.”

Darkness.  _ It’s dark. _ Another familiar environment that’s filled with nothing but the unending void. Byleth knows she’s dreaming, and she’s quite aware of it. Each step she takes in this walk residing in her dreams often either  _ haunts _ her with the ghosts of the past--or her own inner  _ demon _ that had never ceased to be around her presence ever since of that long and forgotten day in her early childhood. 

It’s peculiar, in a way. Byleth knows that the demon that haunts her is her only companion that she can communicate with--a being who understands her, yet simultaneously  _ taunts _ her all the very same. The mercenary knows it’s a vicious cycle of infighting, a way of life that she has grown accustomed to  _ (against her will) _ . She doesn’t remember much about her past aside from the haunting words that were left from the tongues of the victims she had felled with her iron blade. She remembers each day that she forces herself into a new person each day--a life of a hired mercenary is ruthless. 

Though, there is some  _ serenity _ in the void of her unconsciousness. It shoves the guilt of her living life away, and she finds herself at times remembering vague memories of her  _ past _ that she no longer is able to recall where  _ exactly _ they came from. She remembers the views of flowers and lush green grass. She remembers the feeling of warmth from holding a hand, but she’s unable to recall whom that hand belongs to. She remembers many details, such as the blade that struck a thief at the marketplace somewhere.  _ Who was I protecting?  _ Byleth monologues to herself--asking, always asking, yet not even the  _ demon _ that resides with her answers. 

Byleth wonders why the demon never answers when it comes to memories of the past. She knows that her own demon answers when it comes to bloodshed, anger, fear, and even  _ hatred. _ Yet, when it comes to the peace she once had, it never answers. Many years of attempting to reconcile with herself--only to be met with uncertainty and silence; it drives her  _ mad _ . Though, she accepts her fate of silence as a result.  _ Perhaps it isn’t time yet,  _ she speaks for herself again, her internal voice reverberating into the darkness of her dreams. 

“You’re here again.” a voice speaks towards her, “it seems you’re thinking about something again.”

_ Ah.  _ Byleth knows where she is--she found a place of serenity, yet there was an intimidating aura from the person she speaks with. The teal-haired mercenary knows that the demonic entity within her own being is not the same person as the long-haired and emerald green-haired individuals that sits on a stone throne. 

She remembers the first time she has encountered the emerald-haired girl, her matching eyes would stare right at her with piqued curiosity. Byleth remembers introducing herself. She remembers learning that they are born on the same day--the 20th day of Horsebow-Moon. It’s coincidental, or so Byleth believes. Yet this familiarity she shares with this  _ stranger _ simply cannot be coincidental. Though, she accepts her fate with her--intertwined like vines. 

“I am,” Byleth replies with her honesty, “you should know by now that I am always lost in my thoughts, Sothis.” 

Sothis hums to herself in response, her emerald irises continuously pinned onto the mercenary at the bottom of the steps. This, of course, is not the first time they have met. The last time was in a fray of relentless nightmares. Such nightmares often plagued the teal-haired mercenary, and often Byleth finds herself bombarded by the unyielding empathy of hers that she constantly forces herself to swallow down on a day-to-day basis. Byleth finds Sothis to be a blessing. Somehow, the green-haired girl is able to  _ soothe _ the aches of the nightmares she deals with from working as a mercenary.  _ It’s kill or be killed _ in a violent world such as this.

It always feels relieving to have Sothis near her visage--her presence alone is equivalent to a warm embrace; like a mother soothing her upset child. In a way, Byleth finds Sothis to be a familial figure in her life--whether sisterly or motherly, it did not matter. It was because of the bonding with the other that allowed Byleth to remain much more composed than how she was in her youth. Turbulence was  _ never _ a good thing--especially in terms of emotions. 

“Of course,” Sothis answers, carefully, “what you feel is what I feel. I know when you are upset without you needing to say as such.” 

Byleth remains silent. There wasn’t much to say. It would be a waste of breath to repeat the same words she had always told her. The words that the  _ “ghosts of the past”  _ haunted her ever since she was a naive, oblivious girl learning the way of the sword. Byleth does not doubt that Sothis felt the  _ phantom pain _ that ached within her chest and mind. 

“Are you doubting yourself again?” the words of inquiry reverberate in the darkness, “you are questioning yourself quite a bit.” 

“Maybe.” Byleth answers with a shrug, “it happens a lot when you kill to survive.” 

“Perhaps.” Sothis sighs, and it is clear that she is mildly miffed at the idea that she has to  _ coddle _ a grown woman, “but...you are too concerned about what was, and what will be.” 

“What was...and what will be?” 

Byleth finds herself frowning. It’s a complicated statement, but she understands--to some extent of what Sothis means. Of course, she is referring to the past and the future. Constant worry and despair about the past will never change the results of it, but worrying about the future as well will do no good. There was no way to predict how her fate will be like. “Of course,” Byleth answers, feeling the words from Sothis neither comfort her nor torment her. 

“It is time for you to wake up once more and to endure mortal life once again,” Sothis begins to yawn slightly and she shakes her head slightly, “I will be here as per usual, though I shall have my nap.” 

Darkness begins to envelop the environment and a familiar voice reverberates into Byleth’s ears. She doesn’t find an opportunity to bid Sothis a temporary farewell  _ (it seems like Sothis herself is aware of the situation).  _

_ “Hey kid, time to wake up.”  _

Byleth groans softly as her body aches mildly from the stiff positioning she finds herself in. Exhaustion continues to gnaw at her body, but she finds herself fighting against the strain. Jeralt is beckoning for her. The teal-haired mercenary knows Jeralt can get a bit fussy when she isn’t answering on time  _ (unless she’s sick of course) _ . Her finger rubs at her eyes, rubbing away the drowsiness of her body and immediately forcing herself sitting up, she allows the blood in her body to settle down. Getting up too fast would make her light-headed after all. Her hand reaches and runs through teal-colored locks of hair, allowing her digits to rid of any knots in her hair. 

Once adjusted to reality, Byleth immediately gets up and meets her father.  _ “Were you having that dream again?”  _ she hears him questioning her, and she notices the way he peers at her with calm tenderness. 

“I was dreaming about a young girl,” Byleth answers--it wasn’t a lie nor specific enough to give details about the girl she ended up talking to in her dreams. 

Jeralt nods and Byleth notes the way he answers.  _ “Right. I remember you mentioning her before.”  _ he pauses and then he speaks again, mindfully,  _ “In any case, just put that out of your mind for now. The battlefield is no place for idle thoughts.” _

_ Right. _ Byleth muses to herself, remembering how he would always tell her this despite her remembering it to heart. It doesn’t hurt to hear it again of course--a concerned father has his ways in protecting his only child after all.  _ “Risking your life is part of the job for mercenaries like us,”  _ Jeralt speaks again, and Byleth nods, letting him know that she is listening,  _ “Letting your mind wander is a sure way to get yourself killed. Anyways, our next job is in the Kingdom. It’s far and we need to get going at dawn.”  _

_ The Kingdom.  _ Byleth remembers  _ vaguely _ about the merciless, frigid weather in the kingdom. She knows she had mostly worked in the Empire’s territory with some jobs here and there at the Alliance as well. It wasn’t often that the Kingdom needed mercenaries--but they did exist, though not as abundant. Perhaps the knights there handled most of the duties. 

Thoughts were interrupted when one of the other mercenaries in the group interrupt the conversation, dragging Jeralt out to deal with a mess. Byleth follows, seeing three colors in her visage--a contrast to the dull earthy hues she has grown accustomed to over the years.  _ Red, blue, yellow.  _ So awfully bright, the three individuals stuck out like  _ sore thumbs.  _ Though, Byleth finds herself  _ staring _ at the silver-haired girl next to the blond-haired boy talking to Jeralt about the situation. Something  _ about _ the girl mesmerized her. 

The snowy hue of lilac eyes is what catches her attention the most. They were soothing, yet held much of an enigma. Byleth remains silent, but she immediately tenses ever so slightly when the purple-eyed girl stares back at her--almost as if she were  _ judging _ her. “It’s true.” Byleth sees the girl look at Jeralt, hearing the blond-haired boy’s voice silence as if to give her a chance to clarify the situation. “They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.” 

_ Why...do I feel so calm?  _ Byleth contemplates to herself, averting her gaze from the person she was staring at.  _ It doesn’t make any sense. She’s a stranger to me.  _

_ “I hope you’re ready, kid,” _ Jeralt speaks, interrupting Byleth’s thoughts. 

Byleth blinks and nods immediately. Killing bandits was nothing new to her after some years of experience.  _ Idle thinking is not welcome in the battlefield,  _ Byleth reminds herself,  _ it’ll get myself killed if I’m too distracted.  _

Blue eyes follow the movement of her allies. She notices the blue-caped boy and the golden-caped boy sticking together, and the silver-haired girl keeping her distance from the other two, axe in her hand. Byleth notes that it would be best to  _ even _ the numbers out, and she immediately allows her feet to move, following the other closely. “I do hope you don’t mind that I help you here,” Byleth speaks to the other, “I’m Byleth by the way.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” A pause, “I am Edelgard.” 

_ Edelgard.  _ A sense of familiarity rushes into her veins. Byleth allows her digits to grip onto the hilt of her blade further, feeling her body tense instinctively. Pupils are fixed onto the bandit coming towards them, and she notes the way Edelgard swings her axe, bringing it down onto the enemy. Blood splatters onto the dry, darkened soil, staining it scarlet. Her nose detects the scent of fresh blood, driving her instincts of the need to be relentless to survive.

“--guh!” 

The bandit’s voice cries out, choking on his own crimson essence as Byleth drives her iron blade into the man’s chest, seeing the blood ooze out from the freshly made wound, coating the end of the iron sword. The mercenary pulls her blade out, flicking it down to her sword, plastering the ground with the stain and mark of her kill. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Byleth inquires at Edelgard, her gaze pinned forward despite the desire to look back at the other girl. 

“I’m fine,” Edelgard breathes out, “thank you for asking.” 

Blue eyes note the way the brown-haired boy with the golden cape pulls back on his bow, an arrow piercing into another bandit’s chest. She notes the way the lances punctures another bandit’s lung--a kill done by the blond male with the blue cape.  _ Interesting.  _ Byleth thinks as she scans the area for any further hidden enemies. She marches forward. 

“Hey, you with the blank stare! Outta my way!” 

Byleth grips her sword again and watches the bandit charge at her, axe in hand and ready to swing down onto her. Jumping back, blue eyes watch the blade of the axe swing forward, missing her; she retaliates by lunging forward, stabbing the bandit quickly before he recovered to try to attack her again.

_ He’s down,  _ Byleth sighs to herself, noting the gang of bandits back away after their leader had fallen from her attack. Her teeth clench together, and her eyes focus and glare as she notices the fallen bandit spring back to life.  _ I didn’t kill him?  _ She’s  _ surprised _ ; normally  _ no one _ survives her attacks. Her title of the Ashen Demon held tremendous bite after all. 

“You’ll die!” she hears the man shout, axe ready in hand, charging forward towards Edelgard. 

Byleth notes the way Edelgard pulls the dagger from its hilt, ready to retaliate in response, yet the blood in her veins  _ freeze _ as a memory pours into her mind.  _ “Leave them alone!”  _ she remembers saying once in the past, sword ready, adrenaline pooling into her mind, hands and legs. 

_ No... _ Byleth finds her inner thoughts screaming at her.  _ No!!! _

**_Kill him! Kill him for going for her!_ **

Running...and running, Byleth shoves herself at Edelgard, pushing her aside and the faint pressure of an axe blade touches her spine--it  _ hurts _ for a brief moment until--

“You idiot! You. Big. Dumb.  **_IDIOT!!_ ** ” 

Byleth feels  _ cold _ from the darkness devouring everything in sight, her blue eyes immediately turning to the source of the voice. “Sothis, I--” 

“Honestly!” Sothis is  _ livid-- _ Byleth shuts her mouth immediately, “what are you accomplishing with that little stunt?! It’s like you’re  **_trying_ ** to get us  **_BOTH_ ** killed!” 

She almost  _ winces _ at the way Sothis  _ berates _ her for her impulsive action. No amount of excuse or apology would make up for it after all--she disobeyed her father’s law as a mercenary. “Ugh.” Sothis sighs, Byleth feels her jaw ache from how tense she is, “Well, it's fine. If you don’t know the value of your own life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you?” 

It  _ hurts _ to be berated by Sothis; she hadn’t ever received such harsh treatment verbally. Not even Jeralt would ever say something like that to her. It’s certainly  _ surreal _ to feel  _ punished _ for a vain attempt of heroism. Still, Byleth knows she deserves it. After all, only an idiot after all would rush in without proper thinking. Which is exactly what she did. 

“Sothis, look…” Byleth breathes out, and she feels  _ breathless,  _ “I’m sorry. I...I wasn’t thinking clearly--” 

“Of course not. This is one of the few times that you’ve  _ lost _ yourself.” Sothis chips in, interrupting, “it’s always upon my shoulders to guide you so you are not lost.” 

“Thank you for your guidance and help,” Byleth answers after a moment of silence to clear out the last remnants of adrenaline coursing through her body, “but...what exactly did you do?” 

“I stalled the hands of time.” Sothis answers in return, her voice and body language depicting that she had cooled down from her moment of wrath, “you would have died if I did not intervene, and you will die the moment I resume the hands of time.” 

Byleth’s eyes widen in surprise. She never thought of dying on the battlefield--it hit a bit too close to home knowing that she will abandon her own  _ father _ . She displays the tiniest of frowns shortly after with that sour thought. 

“All for one girl. One girl who is a  _ stranger _ to you.” Sothis sighs again, “Oh what am I to do with you?” 

_ She isn’t just some girl. _ Byleth monologues to herself, but holds her tongue in place--she doesn’t want to anger the green-haired girl again. She doesn’t want to tell Sothis about her feelings and thoughts about that girl. Something about Edelgard intrigues her--as if there was a fated connection between the two. The mercenary thinks about her, the way her eyes would  _ stare  _ at her in curiosity, yet there was a stern look of judgment to them.  _ Do I know her from somewhere?  _ The name Edelgard was  _ familiar _ , but she can’t pinpoint exactly where she had heard that name from. Banter from villagers? Banter from merchants? The possibilities were endless. 

“Turn back the hands of time.” Byleth blurts out, her gaze staring at the void despite the light pining onto Sothis.  _ I want to see her again. I want to know the truth-- _

“Of course! I must turn back the hands of time! If I can stop time, then it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle to turn time back.” Sothis claps her hands together, a smile forming onto her young complexion. “Protect yourself this time. Now go!” 

A golden light shines in front of Sothis; it looked like a spell was being cast and Byleth finds herself falling in the darkness of her mind, feeling time tick like a godfather clock. Her memories clash and blue eyes blink several times once she is positioned back into reality, immediately watching the bandit spring back into action. Disorientated, yet focused, Byleth charges forward.  **_Destroy him._ ** Her inner voice speaks, loud,  _ vengeful _ , sinister even. She gets in front of Edelgard and swings her sword the moment the bandit comes within range, sending him flying backwards. 

“Are...are you okay?” Byleth asks Edelgard, her chest heaving from her moment of fury. She knows her own strength and power when she allows the demon of her might to take over---allowing her title to shine through above all. Yet, Byleth forces the emotion down, her body tingling from the adrenaline. 

“I’m fine.” Edelgard breathes out her response, feeling an ache all over her body from the tension of fighting. 

“You’re hurt,” Byleth notices a cut on the silver-haired girl’s arm, the cut slicing through the dark fabric of the clothing she wears, the flesh oozing out crimson essence. 

“I’ll be fine,” Edelgard remarks quickly, holding her arm out a tad bit for her own lilac eyes to inspect, “It’s nothing to worry about--”

“Here,” Byleth interrupts, hand going into her pouch to pull out bandages, “I’ll patch you up.” 

Stepping closer to Edelgard, Byleth notices the way snowy lilac eyes peer at her cautiously, almost wary, but there was a feeling of familiarity; a small sign of  _ trust _ . The mercenary grabs the other’s arm, holding it up in place as she wraps the soft, white material around the fresh cut, allowing the blood to stain and seep into the material. “There.” Byleth speaks as she finishes up, looking at Edelgard, “that should be good until you need to change the dressing.” 

“Thank you,” Byleth hears Edelgard give her gratitude, their eyes meeting. 

Blue eyes widen ever so slightly as they gaze upon snowy lilac-colored eyes, allowing her entire presence to become mesmerized once again. Butterflies dance in her gut, fluttering against the caged walls of her stomach, and it  _ feels _ that any given moment that if she were to speak, the butterflies would escape from her pharynx. The pale purple color is certainly  _ rare _ ; Byleth remembers seeing purple eyes somewhere in her youth, but she doesn’t remember much aside from the pleasant memories of carnations, white lilies and other flowers. 

“Is there something you need to say?” Edelgard breaks the silence, flustered by the intense gaze from her savior. 

_ I was staring too much,  _ Byleth tells herself and she blinks a couple times, “No, I have nothing to say.” A white lie.  _ Your eyes are really pretty-- _ she wanted to tell Edelgard that, but she finds it inappropriate to do so at the moment. 

“It seems that you have grown some interest to this girl you saved,” Sothis’s voice echoes in Byleth’s mind. 

_ I suppose.  _ Byleth replies, watching Edelgard step back and communicate with blue-coated and golden-coated boys who finally caught up.  _ Something about her brings me peace...I feel...good.  _

“I can tell,” Sothis sighs, “you’re hopeless. Though, it seems you have no choice but to go to where your father is going next.” 

Byleth sees Jeralt talk to another man in clad white.  _ A Knight of Seiros? Garreg Mach Academy?  _ Many questions pop up in her mind, but the mercenary could only nod as she watches the silver-haired girl wander around; chatting, smiling.  _ What a pleasant sight.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter, but with how I planned my fanfic, it's still going to take a while before we get the raw emotional gays going on. Still, things will only escalate from here! Next chapter is Byleth slowly learning she has a lot of repressed emotions and she chooses the Black Eagle house.


	7. Color My World With Your Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light in Byleth’s eyes shimmer. Just hearing Edelgard talk was enough to gain her focus entirely, her pulse within her own veins and arteries travel to her unbeating heart, and the sensation of warmth floods within her. Butterflies dance in her gut, but she feels speechless all the same. All she can do is merely nod. In fact, she’s rather stricken with overwhelming sensations.

It’s peculiar. From a mercenary to a teacher, Byleth couldn’t help but blink a couple of times after the initial meeting with Rhea and Seteth.  _ A teacher? I can’t teach--  _ Byleth thinks to herself, standing out on lush green grass as students walked by her. A sense of  _ dread _ evolves from her gut and into her chest, a sudden  _ feeling _ of uncertainty is present. Her main subjects were to teach the students about weapons, utilizing their strengths, and skills. However,  _ socializing _ was the  _ most _ concerning factor in all of this. 

After all, she came from a group of toughened up men and women, cold as ice when it came to the battlefield. She knew how to swing a sword and quickly  _ kill _ for survival and reward. Teaching students around her age about the use of a weapon? The mechanics of drawing a bowstring? None of it made sense when it came to books. Goodness, she barely  _ knew _ how to read in the first place.  _ What in the world was the archbishop thinking?! _ Seteth had a good head on his shoulders for his remarks about Rhea giving her a job without basic interviewing skills and evaluation on her part. 

_ “Are you doubting yourself again, Byleth?”  _ Sothis’s voice reverberates in her mind, Byleth blinks a couple of times once more to adjust to her current environment. 

The mercenary knew for a fact, there was no use lying to Sothis or claiming that she would be fine when she was suddenly shoved into a pit and ended up  _ drowning _ in a river’s torrent  _ (metaphorically of course) _ . Yet, it was difficult for her to process and fully speak about what she feels. “I…” Byleth takes a moment to think of a response. 

_ “You feel that you would not do a good job, yes?”  _

“...yeah,” Byleth admits, looking down and noticing a stray cat roaming around, “I don’t get why I’m a teacher, but I have to choose a house to teach.” 

_ “The choices in front of you are the Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and the Golden Deer. Perhaps it is best to have some time to speak with the house leaders.  _

She barely recognizes any of the names aside from  _ Edelgard’s.  _ It wasn’t difficult to think about it when two of the three house leaders are young men. Dimitri Blaiddyd and Claude von Riegan. Byleth knows she shouldn’t  _ think _ too much about the silver-haired girl, but of course, it would  _ always _ bug her that the girl is  _ stuck _ in her mind--like a leech to an animal’s leg. Sothis would scold her for being absent-minded when she had a  _ task _ to do. Rhea had given her a roster of students. Many faces and many words. Byleth could only really  _ care _ to remember faces rather than words. Again, she is unaccustomed to the arts of language. Though for some reason, she was able to decipher the cryptic lettering and symbols in tomes. An odd person she is. 

Now a professor, Byleth takes her time walking around the monastery, admiring the view of the stone buildings, the torches that lit dimmed hallways, the way the other students would gossip, laugh and smile with each other. It’s  _ refreshing _ , she admits to herself, feeling something lighter within her body. It was certainly a burden, bearing all of the deaths of bandits upon her shoulders, each footstep she takes haunting her with the blood trail she created. In a sense, Byleth knows she cannot  _ forgive _ herself for ending a boy’s life--keeping him  _ away _ from his sister forever. Yet, did she  _ deserve _ to teach students the same tricks and mechanics to the art of killing? Her title was feared, sacred, yet simultaneously, a  _ curse.  _ A curse that she cannot rid of for as long as she lives. 

Flash of cobalt blue and blond hair reaches her blue irises, the professor notes the way the taller student stands. She notes the way he looks at her, knowing that she had accepted a teaching position at Garreg Mach. “I see you have taken up the offer in teaching here at Garreg Mach Monastery. I am Dimitri Blaiddyd, house leader of the Blue Lions. Is there anyone you would like to know about?” she hears Dimitri greet her, bowing down politely. 

_ He’s like a knight,  _ she muses to herself, watching his movements carefully like a predator eyeing at a field mouse, “Anyone?” she replies, “tell me about yourself then.” 

Byleth notes how Dimitri swallows the lump in his throat, his stance shifting slightly. He answers back, “Me? Oh. Um…” 

The teal-haired professor tilts her head ever so slightly to the side after his flustered behavior. She waits patiently for his answer. “Please forgive me…” Dimitri speaks again, cutting away the awkward silence between them both, “it’s difficult to open up on the spot, don’t you think? I’m afraid my story has not been a pleasant one...I do hope that doesn’t color your view of me, but I understand if that can’t be helped.”

_ Unpleasant story, huh?  _ Byleth shakes her head, “it doesn’t affect how I view you,” she’d say, bringing some comfort yet a professional boundary between the both of them. 

**_Just like your story as well. It has not been a pleasant one either._ **

Byleth chooses to ignore the phantom demon that resides within her, keeping herself neutral for the sake of displaying neutrality in public. “Tell me about the students in the Blue Lions.” It was the polite thing to do after all once introducing oneself to another person-- _ especially _ if she was going to teach an entire house of students. 

She notes the way Dimitri describes his classmates, his friends, companions. She notes the way he describes Ingrid with lavish terms of diligence, chivalry. She notes the way he describes Sylvain with terms such as loyal and him being a “skirt-chaser.” She notes each word Dimitri speaks and she nods before excusing herself further. 

If Sylvain were to be near her, it certainly would make things awkward. Byleth feels that the arts of romance fly over her head. She was a  _ murderer, _ not some person of high status looking for someone to mingle with. Even so, it is flattering to consider that she  _ is _ attractive to someone to some extent. At the same time, knowing how flirtatious people were like, it may only be superficial. 

_ “So, what do you think of the head of the Blue Lions?”  _ Sothis chips in again, allowing her ghostly appearance to float and follow the professor. 

Byleth doesn’t look at Sothis, she knows she’s there, following her. “Awkward.” She states once, then pauses, deciding to say more, “he’s hiding something, but each person has their own secrets.” 

_ “Like the repressed memories of your past?”  _

“...something like that.” 

It’s frustrating to say at the very least. Byleth knows her memories have been sealed away by her own mind in order to  _ cope _ with whatever was  _ haunting _ her. Yet, it manifests as an  _ inner demon _ , a cruel, merciless shadow of her past that would cling to her from her back, ghastly, invisible hands trailing up her body, digging its claws deep into her chest. For many years, she knows she simply co-existed with the phantom, tolerating its presence when it appears. 

**_This world is cold and cruel,_ ** she would hear it say to her on occasion.  **_The more pain you feel, the more strength you gain._ ** Sometimes, it would be cryptic, but also very ominous. 

There was no pleasure in the pain she experiences in her life. There was simply no reason to view her world with  _ any _ color. Colors of greens and earthy hues ran  _ dull _ to her perceptions, the cones and rods in her eyes processed it, yet her mind refuses to see color. It’s an odd contrast, but truly, the only color she is accustomed to is the dark shade of  **_red._ ** Red, like the carnations that haunts her dreams. Red like the blood from the victims that she slays. Red like Edelgard. 

_ Only Edelgard _ causes her to react in such a visceral way. Only Edelgard causes her eyes to light up with life. Only Edelgard causes her to  _ feel _ emotions with butterflies dancing in her stomach. Only Edelgard’s hand and warmth gives her a feeling of serenity. Byleth sighs. “What have I gotten myself into?” she internally answers.

_ “A lot.”  _ Sothis prods, gauging her vessel’s reactions,  _ “not only are you quite attached to the girl you have saved, you are potentially tasked with teaching her house if you choose the Black Eagles.”  _

Teaching the Black Eagles would  _ only _ drive Byleth  _ insane. _ To suffocate within her own emotions while attempting to keep boundaries and professionalism was quite a task and definitely more weight upon her plate of burdens. Yet, while a  _ mistake _ , she knows the truth would never be acquired if she  _ ran _ away all because of how she felt. Blue eyes notice the cat sitting in front of her. She bends downwards, fingers gently petting the black cat’s head, scratching gently behind the ears. “I’ll speak to the Golden Deer house leader first. Learn about them, then go talk to Edelgard...and learn about the Black Eagles,” she replies to Sothis, focus pinned onto the black cat receiving her tender touch and scratches. 

_ “And if you choose the Black Eagles, what will you do?”  _

A tribulation that this will be, but Byleth knows that Sothis truly understands what she is feeling despite not being able to express her own feelings well.  _ If _ she did choose the Black Eagles, what would that achieve? Self-satisfaction? A pursuit of knowledge? The teal-haired instructor can only hope that if she were to choose the  _ rockiest _ and most  _ turbulent _ of choices, that she would  _ make _ it out alive without any further scars tearing her from the inside out. 

“Then…” Byleth answers calmly, “I simply live with my decision to the very end. No matter how painful it may be.” 

_ “Are you prepared to walk the path you choose, then?” _

“...no.” Byleth sighs, “I’m not. Truly, I’m not.” 

It’s all too  _ new _ for her. Having feelings and being shoved into a situation where she had no control over. Being told what to do over and over again. It’s confusing. Byleth feels  _ lost _ in truth, having independence to make her important choices for once. Jeralt while having to coddle her from the world, also allowed her to explore and grow up adjusting to her environment. Still, this is her fate now, stuck in a large academy that simultaneously sheltered the broken and the lost. It seemed peaceful. 

“Heh. Piqued your interest, have I?” Claude speaks lightheartedly, his smile not reaching to his eyes, “Name’s Claude von Riegan. House leader of the Golden Deer.” 

Blue eyes scan at the taller male, noticing his posture, his golden cape, and the way he puts himself forward to her. Byleth nods. “I’m here to learn about the students,” she answers, “What can you tell me about yourself and the others?”

Claude lets out a chuckle. “Jumping in so soon, eh Teach?” He’s avoiding the question, Byleth knows this, “What’s life without a bit of mystery? Let’s just spend the next year or so learning about each other, little by little.” 

A brow is quirked at his remark. Unlike Dimitri, it was obvious that the dark-haired young man had more confidence. She finds it  _ fascinating _ in the stark contrast of personalities, but Byleth simply nods. “Fair enough,” she replies, out of professional obligation--it was  _ rude _ after all to mute herself form a conversation that she started. 

Claude crosses his arms, pondering about the selection of students in the Golden Deer, and he explains. He explains how Lysithea is the youngest, how feisty she is when treated like a child. Explains how Marianne, the silent daughter of Edmund only to never socially interact with others. He explains about Lorenz, his noble duties and arrogance is all that he talks about despite caring for others in his own conceited way. And Byleth makes mental notes of each student explained. She finds that this roster was a lot more  _ lively _ and varied unlike the Blue Lions, filled with loyalty, chivalry and the hopes of being a knight. It’s refreshing in a sense, to know that there was uniqueness to each individual in the Golden Deer. 

Byleth excuses herself from Claude’s presence, informing him that she had to speak to the other house leaders. Walking away, she notices her own pace picking up, knowing that  _ Edelgard _ was the last person to see before she had to go back to Rhea with her informed decision. It feels  _ surreal _ having a reason to keep moving forward, to  _ want _ to see someone so  _ bad _ to the point that she would worry herself to the bone if she did not. Of course, she made it a priority to talk to Edelgard  _ last _ so she would be able to spend the  _ longest _ amount of time with her. 

“Edelgard--” Byleth speaks after silence to herself, the visage of the smaller, white-haired girl upon her perception.

“Professor.” Edelgard answers, turning her positioning to face the taller of the two, “I heard you have taken up the offer to teach here at Garreg Mach. As you know, I’m Edelgard von Hresvelg. I will be the house leader of the Black Eagles.” 

The light in Byleth’s eyes shimmer. Just  _ hearing _ Edelgard talk was enough to gain her focus entirely, her pulse within her own veins and arteries travel to her unbeating heart, and the sensation of warmth floods within her. Butterflies dance in her gut, but she feels  _ speechless _ all the same. All she can do is merely  _ nod _ . In fact, she’s rather stricken with overwhelming sensations. 

She notices the way Edelgard smiles at her, almost reading her mind completely, “It’s rather obvious that you’re here to learn about the Black Eagles. Who sticks out the most to you?” 

“You.” Byleth answers immediately, the way her voice tenses was a dead giveaway about her current state; Edelgard doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Me?” Edelgard blinks a couple of times, the lilacs in her eyes bearing a sense of guardedness to them, but Byleth sees  _ some _ familiarity within them all the same. “Well...some think I’m a bit distant. Arrogant even. But there’s little to be done. One day, I must rise to become Adrestia’s new emperor. What else… Well, it seems to me that we may have similar personalities.” 

“Similar...personalities?” Byleth tilts her head to the side at that statement, her voice quiet and soft. 

Edelgard allows herself to smile wryly at her, “Don’t you think so, Professor?” 

Confused, Byleth feels a tight sensation within her chest, her mind flashes back to the distant past. Carnations, lilies and other flowers. It was  _ always carnations _ that haunt her visions. She remembers holding  _ hands _ with someone--a young girl around her age. Yet her face was unnoticed. “I...I guess so.” was her answer, weak, hesitant even. 

**_Aren’t you pathetic for growing weak in front of the girl you saved. You’re a naive fool as always._ ** Byleth allows herself to take a deep breath, calming the nerves down, ignoring that phantom, demonic voice in her head. “Who else can you tell me about? I want to know everyone to the best I can before I make my decision.” 

Edelgard nods, her expression unfaltering. She explains about the way Ferdinand views her as a bitter rival, the way he comes from an arrogant family. Byleth notes the way Edelgard sighs and burrows her brow a bit moment.  _ Cute.  _ Byleth muses to herself and continues to listen to Edelgard’s quick facts about everyone in the house of the Eagle. She explains how Linhardt’s intelligence is charming, the way he is able to apply his knowledge easily--at the cost of his reluctance to participate with others only for himself. He enjoys napping, Byleth hears her say, and she nods. Edelgard talks about a crestless son from a noble house, eager to prove himself. She explains the way Bernadetta hides away in the shadows of her room, eccentric, nervous. She speaks about Dorothea, a commoner that managed to sneak into the noble house of the Black Eagles, a songstress with a hidden reason for why she joined the academy. Petra, the granddaughter of the king from Brigid, smart and studious. 

Her chest hurts the most when Edelgard describes Hubert. Hubert, a name so familiar yet so distant, the teal-haired woman can’t help but feel her memories trail back  _ further _ into the past, and a blurry figure with black hair is seen. She’s unsure if she knows Hubert personally, yet she feels a sense of familiarity when it came to his name alone. Her chest hurts.  _ I don’t like this feeling.  _ It’s extremely uncomfortable. Yet, all she can do is nod, distract--change the topic. 

“How’s your arm doing?” she quickly chips in after the details about the Black Eagles,  _ desperate _ to run away from the ache she feels within her chest.

Edelgard goes silent, and she scans at blue eyes and finds nothing. No ulterior motive. She allows a white gloved hand to place itself onto the black fabric, pulling it upwards to reveal the bandages wrapped around her arm. “Better, thanks to you.” she answers calmly, her gaze still pinned onto Byleth’s expression, “you need not worry about it. It’s healing nicely.” 

Byleth gently grabs onto Edelgard’s hand, pulling her closer to inspect the bandages.  _ Sloppy. _ She muses to herself. “It’s a sloppy job. Incorrect method. Maybe I can teach you how to do a proper dressing--” she looks up, what a big mistake, “so...you won’t have a risk of infection…” 

The distance between them both has been cut, the feeling in Byleth’s throat tenses--she suddenly cannot breathe. Letting go, she apologizes. “Sorry for that, I was concerned since you took a blow that could have severed your arm if you weren’t careful enough-”

“Quite alright,” Edelgard answers, her cheeks mildly painting with a small pink hue as she takes a step back; she pulls her sleeve down after, “I’d like that of course.” 

Silence eats at the air, and tensions rise. Byleth shuffles herself a bit, crossing her arms. She did have one question for the imperial princess. “Edelgard, if I were to teach the Black Eagles...how would you feel?”

Edelgard eyes at her carefully, yet her words as an answer were cool and calculated all the same. “Intrigued.” she answers, “you would need to prove your strength to me and to the others. Hold nothing back.”

_ Holding nothing back?  _ She remembers the way she is when she allows herself without restraint. The inner demon that manifested in her youth was her boon and yet also her bane. It seeks vengeance, blood, and wants nothing more than to tear apart the lives of those upon her path.  **_So she asks for the Ashen Demon--_ ** _ quiet you.  _ Byleth fears that if she were to show Edelgard her  _ true _ nature that it would frighten her and shun her away from her. It would break her heart. 

“I see.” she swallows the small lump in her throat, “then, I suppose that is what’s expected.” 

When Rhea inquires to her about which house she would like to teach, Byleth feels tension, pricks in her legs and hands, the clamminess depicting her sudden nervousness. “The Black Eagles.” she answers confidently, looking at the archbishop. 

“Your heart is set.” Rhea nods. 

Byleth’s world suddenly feels like it has been colored instead of the dull tones she chose to ignore for so long. Everything was bright. Memories of the same carnations and lilies color her mind, but instead of causing confusion and pain like it always did, it colored her entire world this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -wheezes loudly-


	8. Like Lilacs in the Summer Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She...drives me crazy, Sothis.” blue eyes disappear from closed eyelids, the darkness is a temporary respite, “she takes my breath away...and I feel nothing but anguish when it comes to her. “

Being shoved into a battle isn’t something that Byleth is unaccustomed to. Though for the students, it was obvious that many of them had seldom faced the horrors of battle, the reality of the blood-stained road that tainted shadows. It was a juxtaposition _(in her perceptions at least)_ to feel some sort of _calmness_ in her environment compared to stormy nights with the feeling of despair lingering in the field. It wasn’t unpleasant--she never admits to this being unpleasant when it’s a _relief_ to the tension that has been pent up within her entire body for the past several years of her life. 

A mock battle is a lot friendlier. However, Byleth notices the competitive nature within Edelgard the moment their positions were taken. She notices how Edelgard looks at Dimitri as he rushes towards her, hearing both of them give an exchange of words before they charge at each other with their weapons. There was _something_ about both of them within each other’s presence that gives Byleth a feeling of _curiosity._ It just _feels_ like they knew each other--the way they spoke about things _(albeit it formally),_ the way they seemed to adjust to each other’s fighting styles, and perhaps something else. 

Nobles were more keen on forming political relationships. Byleth has heard many stories about how nobles may offer their daughters to other nobles as a way of forming alliances. Being betrothed sounded _horrible_. To be stripped away from freedom and giving away someone’s life before they could even live it is a concept that she couldn’t accept. She wasn’t a noble, so of course, these matters didn’t matter to her. Yet, the concept of Edelgard being wedded off politically is cursed; a world such as this was often too cruel and unjust either way. Byleth doesn’t grasp the understanding of why she is thinking of such thoughts--it doesn’t concern her. 

Despite it being her first time as a teacher, the ways of the mercenary are ingrained in her blood. She manages to analyze the environment, predict the movement of her foes and form a concrete idea on what to do on the spot. She instructs Dorothea to use her thunder magic when Ferdinand weakens one of the opposing students. She instructs Edelgard to attack once Hubert uses his spell from the distance on another student. Byleth orders Petra to attack Claude while she launches herself in to finish him off from the battle. An archer among the ranks is _dangerous._ Distance is their boon. Yet, distance is the bane of those who do not have weapons that can be tossed. 

Magic is painful. Byleth is unaccustomed to fighting against mages. When Hanneman and Manuela close in, the way the magic scorches at her skin, it _burns_ her _alive._ To think that faith magic had punishment to its name. Many would believe that faith magic was all about healing, and only about healing. Those who underestimated the masters of faith magic were in for a surprise. Still, being a new teacher, many would have expected Byleth to _fail_ compared to the other professors--years of experience were their advantage over her. Though, being a mercenary perhaps was the biggest advantage compared to mere teaching. 

After all, it was one thing to know the _theory_ and concepts of battle. It was another to be _born and bred_ for battle. 

It was over the moment Ferdinand and Edelgard struck the other two professors down, stealing the victory from both the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer. Chest heaving from the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, Byleth grips onto her training sword tightly for a brief moment, ridding the stress through her grip before relaxing it. It wasn’t _easy_ to lead an entire group of newbies into the battlefield--even if it was a mock battle. 

All the _praise_ she gets after the battle was... _overwhelming_. She wasn’t accustomed to the praise _(except when Jeralt was the one to praise her)_. Byleth simply nods at the comments, speaking when necessary. Of course, the mock battle wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t hard either. All sides fought well under the circumstances. She also notes that each professor had a unique fighting style and teaching style to boot. It would come in handy for her to remember when the Battle of the Lion and Eagle happens. 

Despite all that, Byleth is still at the monastery, standing in her room, pacing back and forth. What was she supposed to do next? She had looked up all the resource material she could find in the library about Fodlan’s history as well as training tips and tricks. She even received a gift from her father; the book was left unopened and barely used during the time. She had skimmed and memorized as much detail as she could. 

The first week of classes wasn’t _too_ bad, or at least she _thinks_ it went well. She had decided the night before to focus on teaching the students about sword techniques. Byleth even demonstrated her teachings by asking Petra to demonstrate. At the very least, visuals helped with learning--it certainly helped her when Jeralt took the time to home-school her. Going over the weapons and how to use them was all she could think of first. 

Group tasks, on the other hand, were a whole other _beast_ to deal with. Pairing Edelgard and Ferdinand on weeding duty...did not go as well--the way the orange-haired boy would make _everything_ a competition. The result was not the best, but it wasn’t the _worst_ either. _They’ll have time to grow,_ she’d tell herself, almost _hoping_ that it was sooner rather than later. Caspar and Petra for stable duty weren’t as explosive as Edelgard and Ferdinand’s task. _Thankfully._ The results from the sky patrol duty were fine as well. 

Now? It has been a couple of weeks and Byleth is pacing back and forth in her room. It was a free day, but she had spent most of her early morning hours in bed pondering what is the best subject to teach her students. _Maybe some training outdoors would benefit?_ They had a mission at the end of the month, and preparing them for actual bloodshed would benefit. Fingers grip onto paper, slamming it onto her desk. Byleth acquires her feather pen, jotting down the ideas for future lessons. _Terrain advantage, dealing with calvary, pegasus knights, wyvern knights...mages, the types of magic that can be learned…_ At the very least, this would keep her thoughts organized. 

_“Quite the teacher you are, Byleth,”_ Sothis chips in quietly--an attempt to prevent Byleth from being startled, _“I would recommend implementing training on some days of the month to ensure that these students of yours are in tip-top shape.”_

“Hm.” Byleth hums quietly to herself in response, fingers gently tapping at the desk, “you have a point.”

Sothis did have a point. It was one thing to learn about the theory and understanding the best way to wield weapons, but it was another to _use_ that knowledge. She immediately jots it down onto the paper in front of her. _A good reminder._

\---

It’s peculiar how time works. Time can either be slow as a snail or be fast enough to the point that one may feel as if they didn’t have enough time to do what they wanted to do for the day. Byleth finds that school-related work tended to pass time slowly as if she were treading in high-waisted water in a running river. However, despite that _agony_ , she found the time to rest and invite Edelgard to tea. Bergamot has been a favorite of hers--expensive, but the citrus aroma that it gives out is therapeutic, even if the liquid itself was incredibly dark. 

“I’m glad you called me here,” Edelgard smiles, sitting across from the table. 

“I’m glad as well,” Byleth answers, pouring a cup of tea for the imperial princess. 

Edelgard keeps her eyes pinned on the other woman, and peers down at liquid that was freshly poured into the porcelain cup. “Did you go out of your way to select my favorite tea?” There was no doubt that it was bergamot--the aroma alone gives it away, “Thank you for the thought.” 

_Bergamot is your favorite too?_ Byleth blinks a couple of times before taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Bergamot is my favorite as well,” she states, eyeing at the other girl, “it has been my favorite for quite some time.”

“Oh?” Edelgard is curious--she _knows_ , “I suppose that your life as a mercenary allowed you to travel and try different, new things.” 

“I...suppose so.” 

It’s difficult to discuss her past. Byleth knows that speaking about it relives the agony she’s endured over the years, but this is _Edelgard._ She was somehow compelled to tell her the truth even if it hurt. Yet, Edelgard doesn’t pry, though, pale lilac eyes tell her everything. The _concern_ that oozes from that tender gaze, the way Edelgard folds her hands politely onto the table, waiting for her response--her explanation. Edelgard is _perceptive_ , and Byleth knows that she can’t truly escape that gaze of hers. 

“You sound unsure,” Edelgard breaks the silence, “I won’t pry what your past may bear, but it seems there is more about you than what meets the eye.” 

Blue eyes look downward for a minute. She thinks of an answer, “I don’t remember much of my life outside a few things,” it’s _half_ of the truth, “but I know I had someone close to me growing up. She shared bergamot tea with me...and I associated her with it.” 

_Brown hair, purple eyes._ That’s all Byleth can remember. It’s shameful, but the repressed memory made sense. It was meant to protect her. But why? Thoughts interrupt when Edelgard speaks, and it _startles_ Byleth just a tad bit, “I see. I’m glad to know that someone was that dear to you. Memories are often grim reminders or the biggest of blessings.” 

_It’s both a curse and a blessing._ Byleth simply nods and takes another sip of the tea. “You can have some of the baked treats if you want. I don’t eat too many sweets.” 

The way lilac eyes sparkle and shine at that remark nearly catches the professor off guard. She watches Edelgard choose a treat with her gloved digits. Byleth’s head begins to hurt, knowing that it is often due to being around Edelgard. It had been a few weeks already, and she’s already associating pain with Edelgard. It doesn’t feel right in the slightest. Yet, there wasn’t much she can do when she had willingly chosen the most _painful_ of paths to take. It was Edelgard who caused her to act in such a manner in the first place. To anyone else, Byleth simply felt _nothing_ extraordinary aside from warmth, comfort, and company. Edelgard was quite an enigma to her. 

Having tea with Edelgard wasn’t as nerve-wracking as she had thought it would be. Spending time with royalty was always a pain. Having to uphold a certain facade to portray respect and politeness. Edelgard truly meant it when she had stated that she rather be treated like an equal. Normally from the nobles she had seen and heard about, she was the _kindest_ of them all. “Edelgard,” Byleth speaks again, rummaging through her supplies to bring out a stuffed teddy bear, “this is for you.” 

Being rewarded for a mission was surprising, but it was a cute gift. It would be perfect to give it to someone who enjoys plushies and other adorable objects. Edelgard seemed like the _last_ person to enjoy such a gift, but she didn’t have any other ideas on who to give it to. It seemed childish of her to give, but she felt that Edelgard could benefit from it. It looked nice enough for display if she wasn’t going to sleep with it.

“For me?” Edelgard smiles again, taking the object from her professor’s grasp, “I love it. Thank you.” 

Edelgard’s smile causes Byleth to feel the familiar flutter of butterflies within her gut and in turn, causes her to form a smile of her own. Without much thought, her hand places itself on top of Edelgard’s, feeling the warmth and softness of her hand _(even if it was concealed by her white glove.)_ “I didn’t think you would like it.” Byleth admits, relief washing over through her body, “it almost seems...childish. I’m glad you like it a lot.” 

“It isn’t childish to me,” Edelgard replies, validating the thought, but forcing the concern away. “I appreciate it, truly.”

Edelgard puts away the stuffed plush, and she puts her free hand on top of Byleth’s as if to ward away the residual doubt. It was within that moment where Byleth’s pulse pounds against her body. Her eyes stare at the white-haired princess, and she finds herself traveling back into the past, to where she had first enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. _Purple eyes and long brown hair._

 _Purple eyes and long brown hair._ Byleth’s eyes widen in _realization._ The person she had forced herself to remember, the person that her inner demon kept caged within the back of her mind and from her heart. 

“Edelgard…” she breathes out quietly, cold shock and numbness gnawing at every inch of her body. “

The person she had forgotten was in front of her. The person who gave her friendship was in front of her. The person who gave her kindness and love was right in front of her. The person that meant _every_ damned thing to her, was right in front of her. Yet, Byleth finds herself unable to speak more than just the delicate name that came from the tip of her tongue. Her body feels cold, her throat is dry, yet the warmth from Edelgard’s gentle hold was nothing more of a blessing and a curse. But she couldn’t help but wonder if the other remembered who she was. 

“Did you have anyone close to you when you were younger?” She dared hope that Edelgard remembered. She had truly hoped that she could get the _answers_ to the abandonment she endured back then. 

Edelgard blinks in surprise, though lilac eyes bear curiosity. The princess ponders for a bit and retracts the contact of hands, even if Byleth wanted to whine about that and still hold her hand. “The person that comes to mind is Hubert,” she replies, almost _guarded_ , “though I did have others for a short while.” 

“I...see.” Byleth feels her heart beginning to _crack_ again. 

_It...can't be helped,_ Byleth thinks to herself, trying to be _reasonable_ with herself. _It has been years…_

“Professor? What about you?” 

Edelgard’s curiosity was nothing more than sheer agony for her poor beaten heart. The tightness and pain in Byleth’s chest was nothing more of a grim reminder of the social hierarchy. It was to be expected. A commoner and a princess? The odds of everlasting friendship is slim. Compared to others in the world, she was just a mercenary doing her jobs here and there. There was no flourishing grass on the other side of that metaphorical fence. 

“I had someone dear to me once.” Byleth answers, looking down at the now cooled tea, “we did everything together. Go for walks...have tea together...everything. We did so many things, but she never came back one day.” 

Edelgard frowns at that remark, “I’m sorry to hear that, Professor.” 

Byleth shakes her head. “It’s been years. She’s probably...busy with other things. Forgot about me, but that is life, isn’t it?” 

The silence that comes after was ominous and only fueled that silent pain Byleth endures by herself. “Don’t worry too much about me,” Byleth peers into pained lilac eyes, and she almost wants to tell Edelgard to not look at her like that. 

Edelgard doesn’t speak much after that statement. She nods at it, taking it as a sign to keep quiet about the topic for now. “Thank you for the tea, Professor,” she cuts the silence after a moment, “I’d like if we did this again. Thank you for the gift as well.” 

Byleth nods, “I’d like that as well. Feel free to invite me anytime if you do see me.” 

It was a brief exchange of words, but the weight on them fell onto her shoulders like thick steel. Being alone with her thoughts again, the professor couldn’t help but clench her fists together, an attempt to vent through the frustration and pain building up through her body. Her breathing slows, deep and effective in soothing the demon that resides within her. 

Compared to Edelgard, she was nothing but a mere weed in a field of flowers, protruding out like a sore thumb. Trying too much to fit in. Trying too hard to impress her. Trying too hard to _get close_ to her. She’s a teacher. Edelgard is a student. Boundaries had to be kept. _They had to be._ Goddess knows what Seteth and Rhea would do if they found out she was dealing with pent up feelings for one girl in the entire academy. 

_“My, my...so you do remember after all.”_

“Sothis...I.” Byleth finds it difficult to fully speak. 

_“I know.”_ she hears Sothis answer, calm, collected but her voice was tender--like a mother’s voice soothing an upset child, _“she was your best friend after all. It is expected to feel the wounds in your heart reopen due to the memories surfacing.”_

“She...drives me _crazy_ , Sothis.” blue eyes disappear from closed eyelids, the darkness is a temporary respite, “she takes my breath away...and I feel nothing but anguish when it comes to her. “ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Oh it's gonna be a nice, calm chapter-  
> Brain: What if...we continuously give pain and suffering-  
> Me: FUCKING DAMN IT


	9. The Sweet Alluring Color of Carnations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I hadn’t met you...I wouldn’t suffer from sadness and heartache.

_She drives me crazy._

_She takes my breath away._

_And I feel nothing but anguish when it comes to her._

Hands run through teal-colored hair. The burden upon her shoulders weighs heavier than usual. Byleth finds it difficult to get out of bed. Thankfully, it was a Sunday. Free time was often necessary for recovery, but also to perform duties that related to hobbies and interests. The event weeks ago continues to add onto the plate that feeds the demon that flourishes from her pain, but it’s necessary for her to continue forward with a strong face. The other students shouldn’t have to worry about her own personal burdens. After all, they were here to _learn._ They weren’t here to _comfort_ her nor teach her about the arts of human interactions. 

What sort of teacher would she be if she remained couped up and sulking over the fact that her _best friend_ had forgotten about her existence? Lives were on the line when it came to her role here at Garreg Mach. There was no time to fool around. The first mission had shaken up the entirety of the Black Eagles. Killing bandits? It was only a _chore_ for someone like her--the _Ashen Demon._ Protecting the students was difficult due to the sheer numbers, but to watch the way students would tremble in their spot, seeing blood pooling on the ground under them? It was truly _heartbreaking,_ but a _dangerous_ taste of reality. The world bore no salvation to the inhabitants of this world. Robbing a life was common, and often for survival. Kindness was manipulated, many fight only for themselves. 

Kindness in her heart is what keeps her _alive_ ; it makes her feel _human_ and just a bit more real. Comforting Bernadetta after the mission was no easy task, she provides an embrace and back rubs to keep the purple-haired girl calm. It helps, or so she has heard from Bernadetta herself, that she is able to communicate about anything without fleeing in terror. Dorothea had held her own ground when Byleth approached her earlier, but of course, she offered her hand, her _empathy_ at the very least. First kills weren’t _ever_ easy to deal with--she knows from personal experience. It even still haunts her as she hears the reverberating voice of the boy she slew at that very young age. It never left her mind since. It wasn’t easy comforting an entire class of students. Byleth _knows_. All the professor ever knew was to simply communicate that her time can always be given to any of them--if they so chose to come to her about any subject. 

It was all that she knew. It was what Jeralt had taught her when she was growing up. Being open-minded but also not coddling. Coddling served no purpose but to hold back growth. It never benefitted anyone. Though, it was ironic that Jeralt coddled her himself, in his own way. But, Byleth never really _knew_ much about that. She simply lived life the way it is. 

She never complained. 

She never talked back to her father. 

She never really “lived” at all until she began her role as a professor here at Garreg Mach. 

Byleth doesn’t want to linger on those negative thoughts--she knows that the inner demon she hosted for years would come out and prod at her weak points. She didn’t like dealing with the emotions that came from it, but she knew it was inevitable ever since it appeared after her first kill as a child. It grew stronger as more years passed--she became _hardened_ as a result of it, but her blank stare and her stoicism simply saved her from having others nitpick at her true thoughts. 

The next mission was more somber. Having a rebellious force deciding to assassinate Rhea was...not easy to deal with. Having to have fought in the fog was also something Byleth didn’t enjoy. If it were for her own fight, she would have easily allowed herself the freedom to make mistakes. She’s accountable for her own life and actions after all. However, with students trailing behind her, she felt... _paranoid_ that something would happen to one of them. If they _perished_ , it would have been her fault for not _guiding_ them well enough. 

Byleth refuses to endure the same guilt she felt years ago. She had _promised_ herself that she would do everything in her power to guide and protect the Black Eagles from fatal danger. She’s fortunate that they listen and aren’t as _reckless_ as the group of mercenaries she grew up with. She’s able to notice Ferdinand and Hubert side by side in the distance, and she notices Caspar, Bernadetta, and Dorothea together as well. Being together when there’s fog was the best decision she can do, as they are likely to gang up on enemies and take them down. 

_Long...tedious…_ Byleth feels _exhausted_ once the battle is over, the way Lonato succumbs to the wounds in his chest. The way Catherine glares at him, the way they snark at each other before he passes, it only brings sinister memories back to the surface of her mind. Byleth chooses to bite her own tongue _and_ ignore the demonic entity in her mind. 

**_You are no better than them, Byleth._ ** She hears that voice mock her, taunting her, reminding her that she _truly_ was no better than any of them. _Shut up. What was I supposed to do?!_ Her own voice retaliates back, feeling her blood boil despite gritting her teeth and maintaining that _stoic_ outlook she had for herself. 

_What was I supposed to do?_

She wants an answer, her hand gripping onto the sword’s handle, the pressure escalating up her wrist and her forearm. Byleth knows that life and death were inevitable for people. Everyone simply had to endure the tribulations of life, and eventually face the misery of death. She knew this since at a young age--losses would often pile up and leave a trail of blood. Each footstep she takes in her day-to-day life is ridden with the screams and terror of death, lives stolen. Family members that were slain; they cannot go back home to their loved ones. 

Was hiring a mercenary as a professor really the best idea? Blue eyes look at the disheartened students, noticing the way they shook their heads, expression somber, frowns and tears forming in eyes. Byleth feels this was _torture_ for herself and her students. Students learning to fight was one thing, but to immediately send them out as soldiers in training...it was too _much._

“The commoners who allied themselves with Lord Lonato believed they were fighting for a just cause,” Byleth hears Edelgard speak, interrupting her own cycling of thoughts, “it would be disrespectful to consider them simply victims when they died for what they believed in.” 

Byleth weakly nods but remains silent. She had nothing to say to those words. After all, they weren’t incorrect or blinded by bias. There was some neutrality that came with it, but it was...humanizing, and Edelgard certainly saw outside of the box. The teal-haired professor feels that they were still _victims_ since they lost their lives for a fight that was in vain. _Was it worth it?_ She can’t help but monologue to herself, wondering if the commoners felt it was worth it. Byleth couldn’t ask them. _None_ of them survived. 

The way Edelgard talks about ideals, it hurts her head. Byleth seldom knew about politics and steered clear of them, but she _knows_ that Edelgard often had some other ulterior motive to her words. The way she was ever so _vague_ , yet so clear, was remarkable. Byleth remembers when Edelgard in her youth would playfully be _vague_ about the events she had planned for the both of them. The way Edelgard would hold her hand and drag her off into the imperial castle. The way she would show her around, give her sweet bread and other baked treats. Bittersweet memories were her bane, but Byleth knows that forcing herself to _repress_ them again would only bring her more agony than if she remembered. 

_I want to remember._ She tells herself, _no matter how painful they are._

 _“Are you truly certain you wish to continue this path, Byleth?”_ Sothis interferes, inquiring to her vessel out of concern, _“it is not easy to tread this path.”_

 _I’ll do it._ Byleth answers, looking at Edelgard, noticing her lilac eyes, her silver hair, her entire _presence._ It was cruel of fate to reunite her with the one person that meant the entire world to her. It was a _joke_ almost. _I’d do it because I promised her years ago that I would walk with her._

_“You may come to regret that decision, Byleth. Are you prepared for the risk of breaking that promise yourself?”_

Breaking promises. Byleth knows the pain of having the promise she made with Edelgard be broken ever so easily. People are quick to anger, forgetful of any promises, but never of any slights. The teal-haired woman thinks of the way Edelgard’s heart shatters if she were to _leave_ her alone, the way those lilac eyes would bear nothing but utter agony and despair; that mere thought alone was enough to cause an _ache_ in her body. 

Droplets of rain begin to come from the ashen-hued sky, the wetness soaking through her clothes bit by bit, the raindrops cleansing the blood from her blade. _I’m not ready for that,_ Byleth answers to Sothis’s question, but she feels colder as a result of the rain, _but I will do everything in my power to walk by her side._

She zones out of the conversation from others as she treads in the rain back to the monastery, but she notices the _discomfort_ in Edelgard’s eyes, and she takes off her large coat, placing it over the imperial princess. “Here,” she answers softly, “I don’t want you getting sick from the rain. You...looked uncomfortable as well.” 

Edelgard stares at her, but she nods, looking away. “Thank you, Professor,” she replies, softly, quietly. 

Byleth notices the faint blush that crawls on Edelgard’s cheeks, and she smiles as a result. _She’s cute,_ she muses to herself, her gaze averted forward to keep an eye on the road she’s taking. _It’s okay if I get cold, as long as you’re warm._ Memories pour into her mind again, and she remembers when it stormed back at Enbarr. It was a thunderous, monstrous day, but she had her coat at the time. Byleth remembers taking her coat and snuggling in with Edelgard. It wasn’t the best protective gear for the weather, but it was better than sulking around in a rainstorm with nothing at all. 

It became one of her fondest memories. The way she remembers having her siblings scold her for being out in the rain for a long time, the way they both got towels and dried each other off. The way they smiled at each other at that moment. It was _lovely._ Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Blue eyes shift towards Edelgard’s direction, and she gives her a last look before she finds herself smiling to herself again. It’s all she can get from their current relationship. Not as friends, but as student and teacher. Byleth knows very well, that she was not allowed to let her personal feelings be involved with her profession. 

\---

  
Bait enters the water, and Byleth remains positioned, waiting for a bite on her fishing line. It’s a hobby she’s grown to enjoy over time. Buying the bait was...expensive, but it was well worth the gold for her to destress from teaching and the emotional turbulence that she endures quite frequently. It was a quiet hobby, and didn’t require much effort on her end. It was equivalent to the years where her father had read books to her. 

Perhaps fishing was such a reminder of the peaceful days she _did_ have before she inevitably fell into the pit that leads to a violent life. Byleth knows that spending time with Jeralt like she did in her youth was nearly impossible. Especially with the archbishop making him run errands. It was a pain, and she felt more _isolated_ as a result. Yet, the irony of it all, she was surrounded by peers that were kind and helpful. Though, the agony of loneliness still _hurts_ her. She felt misunderstood, _used_ and mostly irrelevant. 

_I’m a professor._ Byleth sighs, _I’m not allowed to let personal feelings interfere with my guidance._

 _“And yet, you’re still very much human, Byleth.”_ Sothis answers, surprising the professor by accident, _“do not deprive yourself of the luxury of being human.”_

“How can I, Sothis?” she answers in response, blue eyes watching the waves in the water, “I’m not allowed to let my personal feelings interfere with my guidance. These students need me. I can’t show them that there’s a lot of darker sides of my life.” 

_“Just because they are your students, does not mean you are forbidden to respond to your environment like the human being you are.”_

A bite on the hook. Byleth pulls and draws out the fish out onto the paper on the dock she stands. Her fingers grab the fish by the tail before she slices the gills of the aquatic creature. She places it down once it stops moving and hooks another piece of bait before tossing it back into the water. “I just can’t, Sothis.” Byleth replies solemnly. 

_“...there will be a time where you must be honest with your feelings, Byleth.”_

Frustrated, her fingers grip onto the fishing pole a bit to vent out the tension in her body. Footsteps from behind her snap her out of her annoyed mood, and she hears a familiar voice. “Professor.” Byleth turns to look at Edelgard and nods. 

“Edelgard. Did you need something?” 

“No,” the imperial princess answers as she steps closer, “I was merely curious as to what you’re doing, but I can see you’re busy.” 

Byleth shakes her head. “I’m just fishing. I plan on cooking the fish I get later. Do you want to try fishing?” 

There was hesitation in Edelgard’s movements, and she glances to the side as if to ponder what the best decision was. Byleth remains silent during that duration until the silver-haired girl broke the silence. “I have never tried fishing. My skills in fishing are...inadequate, unfortunately-” 

_You’re afraid of the sea,_ Byleth thinks to herself, remembering when Edelgard had shared her fear of the deep-sea when they were younger. Blue eyes glance at the water, noticing the depth of the water, but she looks at the other girl. “If you were to fall in the water...I would jump in and save you.” 

“Then...I suppose I can give it a try,” Edelgard replies, taking Byleth’s fishing pole into her hands, “it never hurts to try new things.” 

Byleth places her hands on Edelgard’s, being _selfish_ and savoring that warmth that comes from gloved hands. She waits for the line to shake, and she begins to help Edelgard reel the line in. A bullhead wiggles on the line, splattering excess water from its fins and gills before Byleth slices the gills of the fish. The bullhead stops moving and Byleth takes the fish off of the hook and onto the other fish she caught. 

“Help me cook the fish,” Byleth answers, taking the paper with the fish into her hands, “We can share the fish together.” 

“Very well,” Edelgard replies, though a faint blush appears on her cheeks, “my cooking skills are...a bit underdeveloped.” 

Blinking, Byleth tilts her head a bit. “It’s like you said. It never hurts to try new things. I’m not the best cook either...but I am practicing. Your skills will develop as you take time to practice...but of course you know that.” 

\---

“This would go a lot quicker if I could use an axe or a sword,” Edelgard frowns as she assists her professor in cutting up the fish, skinning it and getting rid of the bones. 

Byleth _almost_ smirks at that remark--the idea of Edelgard using an actual weapon to cut up fish is quite an amusing thought. Knowing how _prideful_ the imperial princess is, she refrains from upsetting her by repressing the urge to chuckle at the remark. “It’s okay,” she answers, “unlike fighting, cooking takes time and that time is rewarded.” 

It _did_ take time. Perhaps an hour or so. Not that Byleth minded. Seasoning and flavoring food was part of the process and she definitely learned quite a bit when she cooked with Bernadetta _(who was a natural at cooking)._ Unlike food on a battlefield, it was more savory and flavorful. Some time preparing it was a lot better than eating bland food cooked from a fireplace. Her spare time had been productive in terms of learning skills like fishing, gardening and cooking. It also helped her strengthen bonds. Lysithea was one of the students she found naturally compatible with her personality. She enjoyed the life and spunk that the white-haired girl had--despite being the youngest. Sylvain and Ashe had been some of the Blue Lions students she spent time with, but mostly she naturally drifted to Edelgard and Hubert. 

It was rare for Edelgard to accept her invitations as the princess always seemed to be _busy_ in something. Something she would never open up about, and unfortunately, she had to live with that fact and use her time elsewhere. Hubert had more time than Edelgard, but he was more... _reluctant_ in being around her. It almost _hurt_ , but Byleth understood that he was genuinely...someone very solemn and seldom enjoyed the company of others. She remembers Hubert being like this as well during their childhood. 

It was bittersweet when she sits across from Hubert and Edelgard. Their smiles and banter surely force her back into the past, where they shared moments like this. Edelgard certainly was pleased to share a meal with Hubert, but Byleth knows that she still needs to keep her distance. Taking a bite, she allows the flavor of her cooking to distract her from the nostalgia that embraces her mind. While before, it was baked treats like cookies, pies and even cakes that were shared between the three of them--having a meal together was one of those memories that should be cherished as well. 

Memories continue to pour into her mind as she eats her meal slowly. 

\---

_“We’re...friends, right?” Byleth asks Edelgard, holding her hand one day. “I heard stories where...friendships end for a lot of reasons.”_

_Edelgard looks at her, her brown hair flowing in the wind--they were back at the field of flowers; their favorite meeting place. “Of course, Byleth. You’re my best friend. I can’t promise you we’ll be friends forever, but...you’re my friend. That is the truth.”_

_Byleth nods, eyes staring at the sky for a moment, seeing two birds fly across the clouds, “I wonder what happens if that time ever came where we were no longer friends…”_

_“Then...I’ll start over and be your friend again.” Edelgard answers, “I’ll make sure of it. Somehow.”_

\---

Blue eyes look back up to Hubert and Edelgard conversing. It seems they were bantering about some events such as training, and other school-related events. It was _nice_ to hear them be at peace knowing how stubborn and strict both of them were at times. Byleth looks at Edelgard, noticing the way she smiles as she speaks to Hubert, the way she looks at her in response and brings her in the conversation. 

She can’t help but _smile_ again when both Hubert and Edelgard weren’t looking. _If I hadn’t met you...I wouldn’t suffer from sadness and heartache._ It was true, if it weren’t for Edelgard in her life, she would have _never_ endured the cycle of sorrow and despair. 

_But...still, if I hadn’t met you...I wouldn’t have learned to be strong and gentle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucia voice: I simply live with the pain.


	10. In your eyes, what do you see me as?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To answer the question, all pages would have you in it. All blank pages will be filled with the new memories of you.

_If a book has been written about my life, how many pages would have you?_

Time is of a cruel concept; unforgiving, merciless, and utterly devoid of concern. It watches those in the present be blinded by the mere concept of the future--hope disguised as glistening, shimmering stars that seem to beckon the fingertips of the young. Yet, they _always_ were ever so far away-distant and _taunting._ Fingertips reach for the night sky and sky-hued irises gaze at the darkened canvas of shimmering stars. Byleth feels the cool, evening air enter her lungs and the feeling of peace overrides her negative thoughts. Each month is an adventure all on its own, and the adrenaline she feels from those missions could never be compared to the brisk, frigidity of mercenary life. There was _meaning_ to her work now. Even when born from the blood of a cold-blooded mercenary, there was a _heart_ somewhere deep within her. 

The desire to help others, the desire to _learn_ about them more; is a constant cycle of _chasing_

the invisible butterfly. The teal-haired professor _knew_ well how _foolish_ it was of her to yearn and reach for more than what she is capable of. Yet, the alluring desire overrides the most primitive of her actions. It’s pleasuring, satisfying, and ultimately, a road that simply was for her self-interest. From isolation resulting from grief and anguish, Byleth knows that she had _found_ a place somewhere in this world. A place where it wasn’t _only_ to kill or be _killed_ . _How ironic,_ she muses to herself, hand maneuvering back down to her side, the breeze from the shadows of the night caressing her teal-hued locks. These serene nights were _rare,_ and she certainly hopes to keep this peace to herself--a respite from the turmoil of emotions she had endured from the past couple of months. 

“It’s strange,” Byleth allows her words to escape from the tip of her tongue. To the average person, one would think she was talking to herself _(but that isn’t the case),_ “I didn’t think this much would happen.” 

Ghostly presences were _chilling;_ but for Byleth, the presence of Sothis was nothing more of a comfort--her secret, and what kept her at bay from impulse and horribly mistakes. She doesn’t speak her gratitude much to the green-haired girl residing within her own existence. Byleth knows that Sothis cares about _gratitude_ from her. _“Much has happened ever since you have taken the position,”_ Sothis chimes, her voice reverberates into Byleth’s mind, yet her being was very much next to her. _“You’ve grown.”_

“Have I?” Byleth answers, reluctant to believe as such; after all, she was still new compared to the other professors--and even newer in the arts of combat compared to her father and the Knights of Seiros. “I’m still new to everything. I’m still not used to it.” 

Sothis allows the corner of her lips to perk up ever so slightly; her smile portraying amusement and a hint of _pride._ A proud mother is what one would think if they had seen the way she expresses herself. _“One has to look back into the past but also into the future,”_ as cryptic as the words are, it was something that Byleth understood, _“you have become more confident and occupied. So much so that you have forgotten that I am even here.”_

“No,” Byleth retorts back, the feeling in her chest is equivalent to _shock_ , “I would never.” 

It’s true. Byleth finds herself _unable_ to bear the concept of forgetting Sothis and her presence. Sothis meant _too_ much to her as a person. Even if she was mystical and cryptic; even if she was an enigma of sorts. Yet, Sothis would chide in and surprise her unexpectedly. She would support her emotionally despite how her words may come off as impatient and very much in a manner of how a mother scolds her child. Many attributes of Sothis would drive anyone _mad_ with frustration and guilt. However, despite it all, she still very much forced her to move forward rather than backward. 

_The cruelest of teachers would sometimes be the one to force the student forward and keep them from falling backward._

Her own nature was not one of malice; at least, not when she kept the _damned_ inner demon tucked behind the facade of stoicism. None should know about the pain that resides within her heart--the pain resulting from inevitable abandonment. If only Edelgard had simply _remembered_ her when they reunited. It would make each day that she breathed a lot less agonizing. The professor does not blame anyone, not even herself for the outcomes. _It wasn’t meant to be,_ she would tell herself silently, sky-hued irises darkened by the night sky gazing upwards to see the tender light emitting from the moon and shimmering stars. 

“I can’t forget about you, Sothis,” she answers after allowing herself temporary respite from her thoughts, “just like how I can’t forget about Edelgard.”

_“Your mind is occupied with thoughts about that girl,”_ Sothis gazes at her vessel, watching the way Byleth heaves a quiet sigh. It was _depressing_ to watch the way she would be downcasted, the way her _looks_ were directed to Edelgard. It all made sense to her--but now was not the time. 

“I know.” the answer arrives, though, unlike Byleth’s answers typically, it was _not_ devoid of emotion. “I just can’t stop thinking about her. Like I said before...she drives me crazy, takes my breath away...I’m restless and I feel _pain_ when I’m around her. I just don’t understand.” 

_“In due time.”_ Sothis answers, _“I can’t keep telling you the answers as perhaps one day I may be unable to speak with you. At times, one has to solve the problem themselves.”_

_How utterly frustrating._ Byleth feels as if the world she lives in is gripping her by the arms, tugging her in opposition with one another. It’s such a tedious _strain_ to her entire psyche, her body, her _soul._ It feels as if she were robbed of the true years of being alive; seeing children run about and play and seeing students bond over struggles and achievements--she never _had_ any of it growing up. 

Feelings of distance override current thoughts of serenity; Byleth sighs, the air exhaling from her lungs feels heavier than usual. Her relationship with Edelgard remains tight-knit, yet, in terms of sheer irony, it is ever so distant from what they had in the past long forgotten. No matter how far the teal-haired professor would reach, it would _always_ feel that Edelgard took two steps ahead of her with her back _turned_ against her. It was a foolish wish, after all, to _desire_ anything more than to guide a _student_ to success. Byleth feels the world upon her shoulders and the burden here at Garreg Mach forever adds up. Her heart is a cup filled to the brim, spilling over the edges without warning. Emotions were _tough_ to endure, and not one day passes by where the silver-haired imperial princess is _not_ on her mind. 

Sinister as it may be, the pain within her heart persists like a leech on its prey. No matter the circumstances, Byleth finds herself trapped within her own void, the desolation that continues to grow and mingle as days turn to weeks and weeks turns to months. The color silver was nothing but a reminder of Edelgard. The crimson shade of red that flares up from associations of the empire--that _too_ also reminded the professor of Edelgard. The way her lilac eyes would gaze upon her each day--eager to better herself from learning, the joy and pleasure of learning were all that it took to _drive_ Byleth up to the roof in terms of escalating the adrenaline in her veins. Yet, her expression cages the _truth_ within the complexity of her heart. She merely forces herself daily to endure the agony, the neutrality she _feigns_ is all but a little white _lie._

Her body aches as she stands up from her resting spot, the sensation travels throughout her body. _A distraction. I need a distraction._ Byleth never really enjoyed lazing about when she was awake; there were opportunities to bond with others, but to also learn new skills and to explore for _herself._ Jeralt never truly allowed her to go further than certain areas back when she was younger--understandable, but she was truly a _coddled_ child, yet, ironically, she too was also shoved off the cliff; an attempt to _fly_ for herself. It was odd. Jeralt never expressed his affections towards her; he seldom held her. She remembers vividly about the way his hand would ruffle her darkened-colored hair, the way his fingers intermingled with her locks ever so quickly and gently. 

Byleth remembers ruffling Edelgard’s silver hair, her own fingers feeling the silk-like texture and the waft of the scent of carnations indicate that the princess had _always_ taken care of her hair. Still, the inquiry of _how_ Edelgard acquired such a hair color was forever an enigma for her. No matter how subtle the professor was, the princess _avoided_ the answer each and every time. As much as she _wanted_ to know the truth, pushing Edelgard for the answer was the best way to end their current relationship with her. 

So, in the end, Byleth would not push. She would simply play the role of a teacher--guiding students who will _inevitably_ abandon her as years go by. A role she was forced upon several months ago, and one she had adapted to. However, the thought of that abandonment would never leave the crevices of her mind--always _haunting_ her in forms of inner demons and phantoms. They are equivalent to leeches, sapping the life and _energy_ from her being on a regular basis. Those days of respite were the days that she were to find joy and peace--the way her lips would form up in a saccharine smile, a smile that was once nonexistent. Byleth remembers the way the students would gaze upon her, their own expressions emitting the joy equivalent to the warmth and rays of the sunshine. It was pleasurable, and gave the teal-haired professor the feeling of _hope_ , and that feeling was _addictive._

_Never forget that they will leave you eventually._ Her mind would always remind her, yet her smile would weaken one to a smile that was _sorrowful._ Still, she was exceptionally good at hiding what she felt, and thus escaping from the feelings of her own torturers was an easy feat. Yet, the way Edelgard would continue to stare, the way lilac-hued irises flicker against the daylight, Byleth knows that Edelgard is incredibly _perceptive._ It was as if the imperial princess was _staring_ into her soul, reading her like an open book. Byleth knows it was inevitable to avoid Edelgard’s intuition and perception. It was as sharp as a silver blade and the talons of an eagle. 

Blackened heels tap against the concrete underneath her boots, legs maneuvering her weight and body. Byleth peers at the dorms as she travels, noting the ones that remained quiet and closed, the air brisk and cool against her face. It was obvious that since the beginning of the year, she was tasked in ensuring that the students not only _learned_ from their training and classroom lessons, but also ensured that they were well-rested. Byleth didn’t know much about emotional support--ironically, the students found her presence to be therapeutic overall, and it seemed the majority of them came to her for emotional support compared to the other professors or even the archbishop herself. 

The second level of the dorms leaves Byleth feeling _inferior_ compared to the first floor students. Nobility was often snobbish and arrogant. It leaves her feeling discomfort, and she certainly was not the type of person to bend down nilly-willy easily. However, she respects the nobility--at least those who were respectable to commoners and nobles alike. The best of folks often see eye-to-eye no matter the status. Perhaps that is a reason _why_ she found herself so _enamored_ to Edelgard. Edelgard, despite displaying confidence masked as arrogance, viewed her peers and even herself as _equals_ . It was _refreshing_ compared to being accustomed to nobles such as Ferdinand who would boast and flaunt. Ferdinand, however good intentioned he may be, can come off a _bit_ condescending--especially to his rival. She remembers the way Dorothea distances herself from Ferdinand and she knows definitely how protective Hubert was and often picked fights with the orange-haired noble. 

Dulled noises interrupt her thought process, sky-hued irises blink several times to adjust back to the reality she’s in. Byleth looks around, but the barren hallways only serve to make her feel unease as the noises begin to become clearer and louder. Sounds reverberate into her ears and the sounds of unease causes her nerves to tangle and jumble up ever further, like vines clinging to a tree for safety and respite. 

“Who could that be?” Byleth squints to herself, allowing her senses to focus on her hearing--an attempt to catch the familiarity of the voice she hears. 

_“A spirit perhaps?”_ Sothis _teases_ in a sense, but she’s aware that any further joking would be inappropriate, _“No, that is unlikely the case.”_

Amusement crawls upon her countenance, and Byleth finds herself smirking ever so slightly at Sothis’s remarks. _How_ _ironic,_ she muses to herself, aware that Sothis would be able to read her thoughts and expressions like an open book. Her blue-eyes peer at the green-haired girl, and she notices the way Sothis’ face twists at the expression she carries. 

_“What is that look upon your face?”_ she hears Sothis _scoff_ at her, knowing _exactly_ what the other was thinking, _“I am no ghost, if that is what is on your mind!”_

Familiar sounds of agony and _fear_ continue to bother the teal-haired professor, her sky-hued irises _widen_ at the realization of who the voice belonged to. It feels as if her world had frozen, as if the Kingdom’s frigid winters had glossed over the warm life that she had grown accustomed to. _Edelgard?!_ Byleth forces herself to quickly move, going to the room that held the imperial princess. Byleth had little _idea_ on how _painful_ it was hearing the vulnerable noises coming from her. Edelgard is strong, bold, courageous and ever so brave. To hear her have her moments of vulnerability and weakness made Byleth feel as if she _failed_ to protect her--as _silly_ as that may sound in reality. 

“Edelgard?” her voice sounded quiet and _weak,_ but she allowed her knuckles to come into contact with the wooden door, the knocking reverberating out at the hallway, “are you doing okay?” 

It was a _rhetorical_ question to ask, knowing the truth that Edelgard was _not_ faring well, no matter how much she had _hoped_ that she’d be well. When there was no answer that arrived after a few moments of silence, Byleth feels her pulses bound against her veins and arteries, the blood pumping into her head and legs as she impulsively grabs the handle and opens the door. She notices the way Edelgard sits up in bed, her ungloved hand running through long silver-hued locks of hair. Despite the dim lighting, Byleth wasn’t a _fool_ to know that there was an expression of _agony_ written on her prized student’s expression. Plus, they _used_ to be best friends after all--Byleth _knew_ all of Edelgard’s quirks and personality traits overall. Yet, having this distance between them made the professor feel as if there were new things to _learn_ about the imperial princess. 

“Who’s there?!” Edelgard exclaims, frantic and lilac irises meet Byleth’s sky-colored ones. 

“Edelgard,” Byleth speaks quietly and calmly still, being _mindful not_ to startle Edelgard even further, “it’s me.” 

A soft sigh escapes from Edelgard’s lips, and Byleth notes the way Edelgard relaxes her shoulders, the way her hands would move to politely fold over her blanket. Byleth allows herself entry into the room, closing the door behind her to give the two of them the privacy they require. Still, Byleth knows better than to pry immediately--it was always best to allow students who were under distress to grant them a brief moment of silence for them to gather their own thoughts. She would often call this her “ _gut feeling,_ ” and it certainly saved her own skin multiple times during her life. It’s uncomfortable to say at the very least, to drown in the silence for awhile--it felt like an eternity, but knowing that this is _Edelgard_ that she was dealing with, it was more tolerable when compared to Bernadetta or even Dorothea.

“Professor,” Edelgard speaks finally after a strenuous period of silence, “...what are you doing here at this time of night?” 

_Reasonable._ A fair question indeed. Byleth ponders to herself. If she were to say that she heard her cry out in fear and agony, it would look _poorly_ on her as a teacher. Still, beating around the bush and _lying_ certainly were some of Edelgard’s pet peeves, and the older of the two knew that it would only break the fragile trust that formed between the both of them. “...I heard something,” she answers, her gaze pinned onto the person of her focus, remaining cautious and prepared for any unexpected responses. 

“Ah, I see.” Edelgard’s response was calm and collected despite how _frantic_ she was before. Her head turns to the side ever so slightly, eyes gazing at the floor before she looks back at Byleth with full focus, “perhaps I was talking in my sleep.” 

Byleth sees the princess get up from her bed, and she watches Edelgard put on the silk-like white colored gloves. It was _unnecessary,_ but she wasn’t going to dispute the other’s habits--especially when she was not only a noble, but also the imperial princess and future emperor of Adrestia. Formalities and good first impressions were vital in that sort of lifestyle. “Were you having nightmares?” she breaks another large pause. 

Despite Edelgard’s calm expression, the _pain_ in those shimmering lilac-hued irises _betray_ her true emotion. The pain that Byleth feels is _unlike_ any pain she has endured in her life, and it makes the professor feel _powerless._ Prodding Edelgard’s privacy was the _easiest_ way to destroy her trust. As much as Byleth _wanted_ to know _more_ about her, taking the _easy_ road was only going to destroy all the effort in rebuilding their friendship and _trust._ “So you’ve heard me,” Byleth hears Edelgard answer, and there was a _startling_ unnerving feeling within the pit of her stomach, “Yes, it was a nightmare. I’ve had them since I was a child. Stupid, pointless dreams that I can’t control...it’s terribly frustrating.” 

_Since...childhood?_ Questions pop into Byleth’s mind, and she searches back into the vault her mind carries. Any _sign_ of this would help her right now, and yet, she was unable to _trace_ a pinpoint location in her memories where Edelgard _ever_ was haunted by such demonic entities from nightmares. None of the memories that she shared with Edelgard were unpleasant aside from the day they first met. The most painful was when a bandit attempted to kidnap the princess for a ransom; Hubert was injured, but was safe. However, Byleth focuses on the day Edelgard had _abandoned_ her, the feeling of desolation and loneliness plaguing her like a disease. Despite how that is the most _plausible_ of explanations, the “what” and “how” of the questions remained unanswered. 

Again, prodding Edelgard was the _last_ thing she wanted to do. A princess’s wrath was not to be tested after all, especially when Edelgard, while small in stature, could _easily_ shred someone apart with her _bare_ hands if necessary. “Anything I can help you with?” 

“No.” Edelgard chips immediately, as if to reject the idea of being _comforted_ by someone, “they’re just worthless dreams of the past. Talking about it won’t change a thing.”

_But talking about it can give closure and comfort,_ Byleth muses to herself, almost wanting to tell Edelgard her thoughts. Though, she shakes her head and she gestures forward with her hand outstretched, almost _symbolically_ to portray a meaning of trust and openness. “You can trust me with anything,” and that alone was true; Edelgard did once upon a time trust her with _everything._

A small, dry chuckle emits from Edelgard’s larynx, and the smallest of grins appear--albeit for a few seconds, “I had a feeling you’d say that. I suppose I could try…” 

Her head nods a bit. Byleth takes a few steps forward, breaking the space between the both of them and her hand grasps onto Edelgard’s gloved one, feeling the soft texture of the fabric. It was soothing to say at the very least--the material is of high quality after all. Yet, her fingers trail down Edelgard's wrist, slipping underneath the fabric. She knows this is breaching personal space, but despite knowing that her prized student loathed being touched, she knows that she, herself was an _exception_ to the rule. Warmth devours her own hand as fingers mingle and intertwine themselves under the thin, silk-like fabric. It was _selfish_ of her to _crave_ the warmth of Edelgard’s hand again, the sensation she longed for _years_. 

Byleth remembers holding onto Edelgard’s hand when they were younger. Whether it was running back together to the field of flowers they enjoyed frolicking in, or even back to the Adrestian royal castle where they had bergamot tea together. They valued physical touch, and it was a sense of _trust_ that was portrayed between the both of them. Edelgard’s hand will forever be soft like she remembered, but it was ever so calloused slightly due to the training with an axe or a sword. A waft of the scent of carnations and bergamot tea fill her nares. Byleth finds herself calming down by simply enjoying the senses around her, but her primary focus was to provide comfort for Edelgard. 

Edelgard feels her cheeks heat up from the sensation of fingers twining themselves with her own, the heat causes lilac eyes to widen ever so slightly, but the irony of it all was that it _soothed_ her. The scars upon her wrists only bore the memories of the _damned_ \---memories she had ever wished to be able to move past without being tormented. If only her siblings could see how she was today. Impossible as it may be, Hubert was the _only_ person she found as “family” at this rate, and slowly, Byleth was becoming a part of hers as well. Her heartbeat escalates and she could swear that Byleth would be able to hear the crack in her demeanor---she feels like a childish schoolgirl, but she keeps that idea and thought to herself. No one shall entertain that idea other than her. 

“Swear to me that you won’t mutter this to another soul.” Fingers gently dig into Byleth’s hand, the warmth of their fingers together brings meaning to trust. _I want to trust you._

“I promise,” Byleth vows to not only Edelgard, but to herself, her forehead pressed against Edelgard’s forehead for a moment. _I don’t want to lose you again…_

It was intimate to say at the very least, though with the two of them together like this, it feels that there was _some_ joy and peace despite the hidden facade of serenity that the world portrays. Edelgard finds her nerves to settle, her muscles relaxing---shoulders and neck no longer tense. Normally, being this close to someone would bring discomfort--especially when she preferred solitude over company. Still, it wasn’t bad to enjoy the simple intimate pleasures of life. _Just this once,_ she contemplates to herself. 

“I appreciate your oath,” Edelgard answers, pulling back to give some space, but Byleth remains firm with her grip on her hand, “I dream...of my older brother, paralyzed, helpless...my older sister crying for help that never came...the youngest babbling words beyond meaning.” 

Byleth frowns, and she watches the sharp intake of air that Edelgard does--an attempt to _console_ herself. It wasn’t _easy_ talking about experiences like this, but she cannot help but want to reach out to the other more. _I’m useless here,_ she’d think to herself, knowing that no matter what she did, she cannot erase the scorched earth that she had once walked upon. However, the teal-haired professor nods, allowing the silver-haired imperial princess to understand to take her time with her thoughts and feelings. In times like this, one had to simply remain silent and listen. Edelgard wasn’t the type of person who would want advice from anyone. It was almost an insult to her _pride._

“I see my family slowly **_dying_ ** , waiting in the darkest depths for a glimmer of light. I once had ten siblings, eight older, two younger. Such a large family, and yet, _I_ became the heir to the throne. Do you know why?” 

_Memories resurface in Edelgard’s mind, and she draws herself back into the period of time where her fingers would grip onto frigid bars of steel, her nails digging into her palms whenever she was left in the cell with her other family members, watching as each on of them had been taken away from her. She remembers carrying her baby brother in her arms, feeling the way he shudders and trembles within her small arms, her embrace keeping him warm despite how he was covered in a couple of blankets._

_It hurt. It hurt when she saw her sister screech in agony as she was pulled away by the twisted dark-robed mages who dragged her out from the cell like a rabid animal. It hurt when her sister returned as a corpse, dead and frigid onto the ground, her blood no longer pooling from the multiple surgical wounds. Edelgard remembers when the number of the lives would become smaller and smaller--her company only coming from her hatred of rats, where they would defile and chew on the flesh and bone of her deceased siblings._

_“Victor!!” Edelgard remembers crying out when the crowned prince of the empire pulled her back from the mages, standing in front of her with his arms outstretched._

_“Don’t come near her,” she could hear him spit at the adults, “take me instead.”_

_Victor stands proud and tall, a sacrifice in hopes that he could save the last living sibling he has. “Free her when I am successful in whatever twisted plot you have.”_

_Lilac eyes watch the dark mages step aside, escorting him out of the cell and to the room out of view. Seldom were there screams when Edelgard leans back against the wall, tears brimming at the edge of her tear glands, the feeling of burning and stinging pierces her chest. “Please come back...please.” she begs--whether to the goddess or whoever could hear her._

_The squeaks of rats and the clattering of teeth were all she could hear._

_Roars from a large, charcoal-hued beast crash into the steel bars that kept her caged--like a butterfly or even a songbird. Claws clash and onyx eyes stare at her; never in her life had she felt as scared as she was now, seeing the dents made upon metal. Frantic yelling is heard from her enemies, the abuse of hexes and spells ultimately destroy the beast that is crashing into her cage. Shreds of flesh disappear into the air, her brother’s body remains limp in front of her, hand outstretched feebly as if he wanted to grab her hand and run._

_“Take the crest out of him. The last Hresvelg is our only hope.” Mages speak to one another, but Edelgard chooses to ignore them._

_“Victor!!” Edelgard screams as she rushes towards her brother’s body, her hand attempting to pry through the gaps in her cage. Fingers barely gloss over cold fingertips, tears dripping down from her eyes and onto the cold ground from the tip of her chin. “Please...get up! Please!!”_

_Her grief is empty to her brother’s ears._

_I’m alone...I’m all alone--_

“---Every last one of them was crippled by disease or lost their mind or died. I was the only one who could inherit the throne.” Shoving away the pain of memories, Edelgard stares at Byleth’s neck--knowing that if she were to stare into her eyes, more of her emotional side would come out. Her _pride_ was all that she had after all. 

“How could such a thing happen…?” Byleth finds herself breathless; it’s hard to intake all of that information, especially when it was one of a dark nature. Twisted and corrupted, her lungs ache from the lack of breathing, the shock forcing her to take a quiet deep breath for herself. 

“Things kept getting worse. The darkness kept getting darker. In the end, I was the only one who survived. The nightmares are a reminder to never forget. To never allow such terrible things to happen again.” 

Pulling her fingers from Byleth’s hand, Edelgard peers into her professor’s eyes, ambition equivalent to hellfire shines within tormented, lilac irises. “Even now, I’m the only one who can carry the weight of the Adrestian Empire. The future of the Empire...of everything...depends on me.” 

_You don’t have to carry that burden alone,_ Byleth wants to tell her, though her own teeth sink down onto her own tongue--to prevent it from speaking out of turn. So, she merely nods. 

“I shared more than I intended to,” a sigh from the imperial princess is heard, “I suppose there’s something in the air tonight. I’ve never told anyone my past before. Please...forget I said anything--”

Arms wrap around the smaller girl’s frame, her face burying itself into Edelgard’s shoulder. Byleth again knows that this is _selfish_ of her to do, but knowing the forgotten bond they had, she wanted to be there for her _best friend_ once again. Even if it meant staying up and listening to her troubles. Even if it meant risking her life for her. Even if it meant rebuilding what was lost. “I’m sorry.” she answers, voice muffled gently against Edelgard’s shoulder, “I can’t take away the pain or change the past...but know that I will _always_ be here for you, Edelgard. _Always.”_

_Because I promised you since that day, that I want to share my life with you._

“I see,” as quiet as her voice may be, Edelgard still had her clarity, “I appreciate it. Thank you. Please, it’s getting late. Get some rest... _my teacher.”_

_To answer the question, all pages would have you in it. All blank pages will be filled with the new memories of you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long wait! Again, we're all aware of what is going on and while I hope you enjoy the chapter, I also hope all of you are safe out there.
> 
> https://discord.gg/ppvwean
> 
> I made a server with a few friends and we want to open our doors to any readers of Phantom Pain and any other of my works! We're hoping to build a friendly, long-term community built from friendship and of course, we can all simply live with the pain from my awful, sadistic ass!


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